


Dean Hood and His Merry Men (And Women)

by justlikedaylightsavingstime



Category: Robin Hood (Traditional), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Hood and his Merry Men (and women) have their work cut out robbing the rich to feed the poor under Sheriff Crowley's watch. Things can only get more complicated when a local lord by the name of Castiel enters the greenwood forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Guest of Dean Hood: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously all the Supernatural characters belong to Supernatural/Kripke etc.
> 
> So I've basically just mashed together Supernatural with various Robin Hood stories. Some of these come from the 14th C. rhymes, some are from more modern adaptations and some are from my head. Don't expect historical accuracy, particularly with the speech (who wants to write in medieval English?). Also, if I kept true to the racist/sexist/homophobic etc attitudes that would have pervaded the Merry Men then I would probably have just ended up annoying myself.
> 
> I've kind of got it dated around the 12th C. in my head, but I've incorporated the more recent adaptation of the King Richard/Prince John dynamics (with Michael and Lucifer). In terms of making quarterstaffs, I looked it up but didn't really find anything helpful so I made it up, and it should probably be noted that quaterstaffs weren't really used until the 15/16th C. anyway.
> 
> I'm also using the Robin Hood angle to defend my use of English spellings (sorry Americans). Also, with the whole Norman invasion thing I felt like I should throw in a couple of French words.
> 
> The first four chapters were only meant to be one, but I got a bit (very) carried away. They were meant to be more 'setting the scene' so there should be more action later on. This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so constructive criticism is really welcome (particularly with the dialogue as I've had a lot of trouble with that.) Not had a beta reader so unfortunately all mistakes are mine. You should bear in mind that in a couple of places I have shamelessly stolen spn dialogue.
> 
> If you’re looking for something to listen to whilst reading then anything cheesy is highly recommended, such as the Prince of Thieves theme, or songs from the Disney film/Men in Tights.
> 
> In case the crossover in characters gets a bit confusing:  
> Dean: Robin Hood  
> Sam: Little John  
> Bobby: Friar Bobby Tuck  
> Jody: Jody the Mills Daughter (Much the Miller’s Son)  
> Charlie: Charlie Scarlet  
> Anna: Lady Mary Anna (Maid Marian)  
> Michael: King Michael  
> Lucifer: Prince Lucifer  
> Crowley: Sheriff of Nottingham  
> Azazel: Guy of Gisborne

Birds twittered. Leaves rustled. Branches crunched. Peaty smells wafted up from the spots where the horses’ feet disturbed the dusty ground. Castiel hated every minute of it.

It was all so…dirty. Even the mellow evening sun filtering down through the tree tops elicited a nervous shiver. Peering behind him, he could tell that Anna’s twinkling eyes were much more appraising.

Her mischievous stare combined with her red curly locks and the ever-changing glint of the fading sunlight gave her an almost ethereal quality. She could almost have been a fairy. This time his shudder was much more pronounced.

“Castiel are you okay? Are you cold?” The sound of her voice anchored him back to reality, and he gave a firm shake of his head. Wheeling his horse round he turned to block his sister’s path.

“The guards are not far behind Anna, the fun is over. You need to wear your wimple and return to riding side-saddle.” He asserted in a gravelly mutter. Having expected the resulting glare, he automatically returned it whilst attempting to fend off a smile. He delicately swung from the saddle and proffered his hand to the figure on the horse. Anna merely deepened her glare and swung herself down, ignoring his hand. She reached down to fumble with the knots that secured the folds of her blue dress above her knees. It was always amusing to see one of the rare moments when Anna would break her usual ‘delicate flower’ demeanour.

Castiel just shook his head and stepped behind the horse, calling to the little girl seated upon the pony behind. “Lily.”

The girl slipped off the grey dappled pony easily from her side-saddle position and fixed Castiel with a disconcerting glare as she walked past. Lily was not really a welcome addition to their party; in fact she had a habit of freaking Castiel out. However, Michael and Lucifer were the ones who chose Anna’s maidservant, and it would not have been fair to leave her with the imposing guardsmen anyway.

He grasped the reigns of the three horses and led them off the dusty track, down to the riverbank where he secured them to a tree. Castiel lowered himself onto a mossy log, gently patting the horses’ noses and listening to the distant voices of Anna and Lily as they slowly navigated the wimple fastenings. In the distance he could also hear the clink of metal, rumble of masculine voices and trampling of horses hooves that told him the guards were close by. Absentmindedly he stroked a hand through his horse’s mane, extracting any stray leaves with a tender touch. More mess to clean up. Humming to himself he realised that the forest was much less stuffy down by the river. In fact, the birdsong and unmistakable patter of running water certainly had their attraction. With a sigh of relief he leant down to trickle some of the glittering water between his lips. 

His movement was frozen as his ears picked up on a change in sound. Distantly, he heard the rumble of male voices stop and an ominous clattering sound resounded through the trees. Before he knew what he was doing, he was charging through the forest, away from the shouts and distressed whinny of horses. Something was wrong and he needed to find his sister.

“Anna, Anna.” The shrill shouts had evaded his usual gruff tone as he broke through countless branches and vines. Obnoxious tree roots tripped him more than once, but he kept running, drawing his sword out of its scabbard with a satisfying ringing sound. Breaking through the trees he finally charged onto the path in the place where he had left his companions.

The first sight to accost him was that of Anna being held in the clutches of a giant wild man, sporting long hair and a mocking grin. Quickly he glanced around to see half a dozen other men, two of whom seemed to be attempting to restrain a clawing Lily.

Not wasting another moment, Castiel raised his heavy sword and hurtled towards the wild man, ready to smite him straight to hell.

Anna’s shout of warning barely registered as a sharp blow shuddered through his skull, and suddenly everything was black.

****

 

Dean stared down at the quarterstaff in his hand, experiencing an unexplainable stab of guilt. The guy sprawled at his feet had certainly been asking for it. No-one threatened his baby brother and got away with it. In fact, he had killed men for less. Yet he had deliberately softened the potentially fatal blow. And he still felt guilty.

Maybe it had been the guy’s sensitive treatment of his horses, which Dean had observed from his (fairly low) vantage point in the trees. In his lifetime he had seen few nobles treat such creatures as anything more than tools necessary to be beaten into submission. Then again, perhaps it was the endearing nature of his off tune singing. Or maybe it was the quiet charisma the guy exuded. Dean had always been drawn towards grounded personalities. Although mostly, it was the way the man had given no thoughts to his own safety as he had rushed to save the girl. Dean held a great respect for such blatant stupidity.

The man’s gorgeous form didn’t hurt either. He sported a delightfully windswept head of dark hair and Dean could easily make a hint of muscle underneath the tunic. A nudge to his side startled Dean from his reflections, and he realised that he had been staring at the guy on the floor for far too long.

Dean considered the green clad group assembled on the path, noting the sturdy yew bows and staffs in each hand. Carefully, he forced an excessively charming grin onto his face and sauntered over to Sam. Dean patted the large man on his shoulder as he appraised the woman restrained in his arms. “So what have we got here then?”

Sam flicked his hair out of his eyes (Which earned him an eye-roll. Seriously, when was the moose going to get a haircut?) and said “Look like nobles to me. What should I do with them?”

At this the redhead seemed to take fright, and started squirming. A second later she brought her luxuriously clad foot to collide, in a very jarring manner, with Dean’s shin. His uncontrolled cussing seemed to amuse the rest of the group as they erupted into laughter. This was only amplified when she opened her mouth.

“Murderer! I will see you hang for this. You have no idea who you are dealing with. I’m going to make you rue the day you were born.” The glare she gave to accompany the statement was enough to temper the Dean’s chuckle, quickly turning it into a cough.

“Keep your panties on. He’s not dead. Robin Hood at your service, my lady. Welcome to my forest.” Dean felt that the flourish of the bow really added that extra je-ne-sais-quoi to his swagger. “And you would be…?”

As there seemed to be no foreseeable end to the redhead’s silent glare, Dean turned his attention to his men. Singling out the thin blonde to the side of him, he grinned. “Jo, wanna report”

“Loads of guards, maybe thirty, further down the path. Big weaponry, but they had no idea how to use it.” The blonde replied with a raised eyebrow. Dean was pleased to see the look of bewilderment that crossed their prisoner’s features when she realised that the blonde was actually female. “It looks like they were wearing royal livery, but I’ve no idea what they’re doing this far North. Bobby and Jody seem to have them in hand.” 

Dean smiled his praise at Jo, and leant towards their conscious prisoner, pushing his face into her personal space. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that you’re royalty. And yet I believe there is not a single drop of ginger blood in the royal family, Sign of fairy lineage, you know.” He nodded conspiratorially. “So that must make you one of the King’s forgotten bastards.”

His eyes roved across her face, taking in the angry frown and almost familiar features. Shock ran through him like electricity.

“Wait, Mary Anna?” He muttered, an indecipherable stutter clouding his words.

Her glare deepened, acquiring an air of confusion. Dean glanced away, only to find himself under the unblinking gaze of a fair haired little girl.

This was strange. He coughed uncomfortably in the back of his throat. Noticing the bitch face that Sam was directing towards him, Dean realised that he had lost his cocky grin. His mind whirled, but hopefully Anna’s failure to recognise him would work out in his favour. He had no reason to let her, or any of the others, know that their new prisoner was an old…acquaintance.

“Sammy, can you take these guys back to camp? I’m going to go see hoe Bobby and Jody are getting on.” Leaning towards Sam, he added in a whisper. “Don’t forget the blindfolds. And be careful with them, okay?” 

Sam’s frown took on another layer of worry but all he said was. “Okay, but stop calling me Sammy.”

Dean shrugged it off and stepped off the path, letting the crisp leaves swallow him up.

****

 

Castiel opened his eyes to the brightest green he had ever seen. He could feel it drawing him into its depths like a siren’s call. As his vision cleared, he realised he was actually staring into the eyes of a delicate featured face which was wearing a very intense gaze. A gasp escaped Castiel’s lips as he watched the stranger lick his tongue across his luscious lips. His appraisal was short lived, as pre-blackout memories crashed over him.

He slammed a fist up, intending to connect with the man’s regal nose. Instead, he barely even managed to graze his strong chin. Taking advantage of the look of shock on his opponent’s face, Castiel pushed himself off the soft floor, shouting Anna’s name and fumbling for his sword. Until the floor came tumbling back to meet him.

He felt strong hands pushing him back onto a spongy surface and found those green eyes were still fixed on his face.

“Woah there man. You took quite a hit. Even if I do say so myself.”

Castiel stared up at the infuriating grin on the man’s face. He needed to find Anna. However, his “where’s my sister?” came out more as “whrsmesystr”. His opponent’s laugh boiled his blood, and Castiel waved his arms up, clenching and unclenching, failing to get his hands round the man’s throat.

As he continued to struggle, the man gave him a funny look before leaning back towards what looked like a curtain against the wall.

“Do me a favour, and bring in the redhead” he bellowed whilst he kept a gaze on Castiel’s face.

There really was nothing more enraging than the smirk dominating his face. This smirk widened as Anna stumbled through the green curtain followed by the wild giant he had seen earlier.

As Anna’s caught sight of Castiel she started rushing over to him, wailing his name. Castiel let out a breath of relief at seeing her in one piece, even if she seemed rather ruffled. His relief quickly morphed into burning hot fury when the giant grabbed her with abnormally large hands. The second attempt at getting off the spongy floor proved to be no more successful than the first, and Castiel felt the same strong hands leave a warm imprint on his arms as he was bundled back onto the bed in a similarly humiliating fashion.

In response to his continued struggling, the strong hands seemed to give up restraining him and instead helped him up into a sitting position. Once the world had slightly calmed its spinning, Castiel was able to take in the whole room. The walls looked to consist of a complex weaving of branches and strategically placed gaps let in the delicate mystical sunlight that pervaded the forest. With a little shifting he realised that the softness of the floor was due to a thick carpet of cushioning leaves.

Anna looked at him with concern, before turning her attention to the green eyed man. “Can’t you see he’s hurt? He needs looking after, you beast!”

The insult failed to wipe the smirk from the green eyed man’s face. “You might want to think about treating your captors with more respect, my Lady”. In any other situation Castiel would have laughed at Anna’s enraged expression at his over-exaggerated bow.

“Listen, you ….ruffian. He’s a very important man. If he doesn’t get any attention then he’ll die. If he dies, then you will have nothing to ransom. The authorities will not rest until you are brought to justice, and everyone in the surrounding countryside will be punished. In fact I will kill you myself.” Their captors smirk seemed to falter a bit at the hard set to her chin. 

“No money! Death! Capiche?” She exclaimed with exaggerated annunciation after he failed to reply. “You will die, your forest will burn and I’ll make sure that every one of your men suffers a painful death at the gallows.”

Her confrontational stance faltered as the green eyed man reacted, storming across the room and pushing his now fuming face into hers. “I don’t take orders from spoilt bitches. People like you are the reason that people like me are necessary. And if you ever so much as threaten to touch a hair on any of my men’s head again then I will happily gut you myself.”

Castiel felt a shiver of fear when he registered the tension in the man’s muscular soldiers. Without thinking he pushed himself up, slightly more successfully this time, into a standing position.   
The giant holding Anna looked concerned, and his low mutter of “Dean” and the subsequent step back taken by the green-eyed man surprised Castiel. What kind of outlaw allowed his men to question him? Not wanting to miss his opportunity Castiel staggered across to the green eyed man, trying to throw himself inbetween that pure aggression and his sister. A look of shock, wiping away all anger, registered on the green eyed man’s face as he stumbled back a couple more steps. 

“Sammy, I think our redhead might feel more cooperative after a spell in a tree. And find her a gag.” Dean said, gaining some of his earlier self-assured demeanour.

Castiel swung round grabbing at Sammy as he started to manhandle Anna out of the room. All he managed to achieve was to stumble and lose his balance, only to be dragged back to his previous bit of floor accompanied by Anna’s calls as Dean caught him.

****

 

Dean’s captive finally had a name. Castiel. It just sparked off the tongue. Even more impressive was the sharp and intelligent light that shone within his sea blue eyes. He surveyed the sitting figure of Castiel, taking in the laboured breaths and frown of pain. Yet this hadn’t stopped him from trying to protect Mary Anna. She may have grown up into the kind of snob he’d always hated, but at least she seemed to have the love of a valiant young man.

“You’re fiancé will be fine, so long as she keeps her threats to herself.” Dean almost gasped at the abrasive glare levelled at him by those blue eyes. “You, on the other hand, do need some looking after.”

He went to the corner of the room and grabbed the pitcher of ale, tenderly clasping his hand onto Castiel’s shoulder as he attempted to get him to drink. Castiel’s frown deepened as he thrust the hand off his shoulder and snatched away the pitcher. Dean was surprised to find that he was actually unsettled by this defiance, but just assumed it was residual anger from his altercation with Mary Anna.

“Fine have it your own way. Who are you and what are you doing in my forest?”

The dark haired man finished glugging the ale and focused his attention on Dean, tilting his head with a frown of confusion.

“It’s not your forest, it’s the King’s.” There didn’t seem to be any censure or defensiveness in Castiel’s statement, just a tone of pure bewilderment.

“And when the King is here to claim or protect it again, he can have it back. In the meantime, I’m the top dog around here and I control who passes in and out of our woods. You and your bird have yet to explain what you are doing here, with royal guards no less.”

“We were just on our way to Nottingham, when your brutes attacked my ‘bird’ and her maid servant, slaughtering our guard and stealing my sword. You are very mistaken if you think that such actions merit my cooperation.” Castiel’s gravelly voice somehow managed to temper the impudent tone of these words, although they still grated against Dean’s nerves.

“What is your business in Nottingham?”

“It’s private.”

Dean rolled his eyes, struggling to feel seriously annoyed by the response. “Fine, get some sleep. I’ll deal with the pair of you tomorrow.”

Castiel scowled at this, but before he had chance to resist Dean said “Don’t worry about the redhead. She’ll be safe, at least for tonight. I promise, on my honour.” Dean could visibly see the man reacting to the serious tone and solemn look on his face.

The cocky smile returned to Dean’s face as he turned back from parting the curtains the covered the doorway. “I’m Dean by the way.”

It was only as he stepped outside to embrace the fluttering world of the forest that Dean realised what he had said. He never offered up his true name. For people outside of his band, Robin Hood had always acted as the perfect screen. Yet those icy blue eyes had seemed to draw it out of him. He had wanted to grant this man that level of intimacy. He tried to reassure himself that it was not a big deal. It was just a name after all.

Dean was careful to replace the shield of foliage over the shelter before grinning at the pretty blond crouched in the tree up above. The scowl he received only widened his smirk. “Come on Jo, you said you wanted to be part of the gang. Everyone has to do guard duty.”

“Not everybody has to do guard duty when the rest of the Merry Men are getting their merry on. Why do I always get guard duty just as evening celebrations are beginning?”

“Because you’re the newest member of the band and I say so. It’s either this or I put you on kitchen duty for the rest of the week!” The abruptness with which Jo stopped complaining was almost comical.

“I tell you what, if he wakes up feeling hungry and is able to walk, you truss him up and bring him over to the campsite. That good enough?” Ignoring the death glare burning into the back of his neck, Dean strode off in the direction of the clearing that currently housed their campfire. He only turned round after an arrow whistled past his ear and embedded itself into the dark soil at his feet. All Jo gained was a supercilious wave and a warning not to waste arrows.

It wasn’t dark yet, but the cold bite to the wind hinted that nightfall was not far off. His feet followed the hidden path, rustling through the undergrowth. When he reached the edge of the clearing, Dean sat and watched the hustle and bustle that was occurring within. A massive newly lit fire was burning in the centre, surrounded by logs that had been worn smooth by various asses. 

A group of green clad people were sat on the opposite side of the fire, working with pieces of wood, feathers and flint. The youngest members of the group tended to get the most fiddly jobs, and among them he could pick out Kevin, Krissy, Charlie and Jess. Kevin and Jess had shown little promise with their weapons so far, but Charlie had proved to be a decent shot. She wouldn’t be on arrow duty for long. Krissy was even more adept, but at her age there was no way she was getting near weapons outside of training. Dean was pleased to see that although they were working anything but quietly, they were at least efficient.

Underneath a makeshift canopy some of the older members of the gang were bossing their teams around. Dinner seemed to be well on the way, helped by Bobby’s periodic exclamations of ‘idjit’. Every so often Ash and Garth would get distracted from preparing the venison and Bobby would grace them with a slap round the back of the head. Benny had the pot of stew well in hand as he enlisted Rufus’ help to stand it over the fire.

The rest of the clearing was filled with people milling about waiting for the food to cook, and for Ellen to bring out the colossal barrels of beer and ale. Jody had enlisted some of these for quarter staff training, trying to make the most of the fast waning light. An air of expectation pervaded the clearing, and Dean watched as Chuck, their minstrel, attempted to capture it on his vellum.

These were his men (and women) and he loved nothing better than to watch them giving the forest that homey feel. The contentment at the pit of his stomach grew as he watched a tall frame, which could only be his moose of a brother, mooching his way over to the cluster of people who were making the arrows. Dean observed as Sam knelt down next to Jess’ curly blonde head and wrapped his hands round hers, obviously with the excuse of helping her technique. 

Not being able to help himself, Dean broke through the trees into the clearing and headed towards the other side of the campfire. He didn’t notice the way all the heads turned to smile at him, even those whose smiles held a more flirty offer. Despite this the low murmur of voices and occasional clash of wood upon wood continued with barely a hitch. He reached the arrow making group and sat on the ground, leaning against a log with a self-assured air.

“If you two keep that up Jess won’t have time to earn her tunic before she’s sporting a ring and popping out little ones left right and centre.”

“Jerk.” God, Sammy’s bitch face was just hilarious.

“Bitch.” 

Jess only smiled, and lobbed a bit of twig at Dean’s head before pulling Sam’s large hands back down to her own and reclaiming his attention.

Charlie at least had found this amusing, and was passing her arrows to Kevin so he could put the feathers onto the end.

“Speaking of tunics, I think you might be ready for yours if you want Charlie.” Dean said, looking slyly at the redhead in front of him. Only those of his gang who were ready for more intensive training and mission work were given tunics. Most of the people who remained in the camp wore dresses and tunics of brown or green, but only Dean’s best fighters got to wear his livery. It was just too fine a material for everyday work to ruin.

The grin on Charlie’s face was only matched by the absolute giddiness in her squeal. She jumped forward, scattering arrow heads everywhere and squeezed all the breath out of him.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes! I won’t let you down. I’ll practice twenty five hours a day, and I’ll do all the rubbish missions, and I’ll do everything you tell me to, and I’ll ..I’ll…” and she squealed again. But then her look of elation dropped into a disappointed grimace. “But my mother’s expecting me back any day. I can’t pretend I’m on a pilgrimage to a nunnery for much longer.”

“Well, stay for another few days, and then after that you’ll just have to come and join us whenever you can. Beside those boots you promised us won’t make themselves.” Dean declared, glad to see the look of hope return to Charlie’s face. She grabbed him in another hug.

He looked over at Kevin. As a fairly new member of the band he could do little but grumble when Dean ruffled his hair. “So how are you getting on?”

“Okay I guess, looking forward to the stew.”

“Keep up your training and you might earn your tunic too at some point.”

“I’m not sure I’m up to being a fighter.”

“Nonsense, it just takes some practice.” With this Dean stood up and went to check on the other people flitting through the clearing, exchanging back slaps and hearty laughs. Soon enough the only light in the clearing was provided by the moon and the spitting fire. Everyone sat on the logs, hurling insults and challenges at each other, eating copious amounts of stew and swapping increasingly crude and boastful stories. Ale was flowing in a never-ending supply thanks to Ellen, and seemed to be accountable for the increasingly raucous noise level.

Earlier in the evening Anna had been released from the tree that she had been tied to, in a manner modelled after stocks. Her gag had also been removed to allow her to eat, but only for as long as she promised to behave herself. With her delicate manners and haughty demeanour, Dean could barely identify her with the giggling girl he had chased round as a young boy.

The revelry continued to grow. Just as the food was being cleared up, Jo came bounding towards the campfire with Castiel in tow. He seemed to be struggling with the pace she set, and looked overwhelmed by the festive atmosphere. She rushed over to claim the last of the stew, depositing her captive by Dean’s feet. Dean took one look at Castiel and then called Jo back over.

****

 

Castiel hunched over on the forest floor feeling disorientated and woozy. He struggled to sit up, until some patient hands soothingly removed the rope around his wrists. The same hands assisted him into a sitting position, with his back resting against a rough grainy surface. Voices drifted towards him from over his head.

“What do you think you’re playing at Jo? I told you to bring him to the campfire when he was ready, not to make him ill. He’s our prisoner. That means we have certain obligations towards him. By taking him as a prisoner I took a commitment to take care of his safety and comfort to the best of my ability. You’ve broken my promise!” With each point the man’s voice was getting louder and louder, so that by the end of his speech the venom and rage in his voice was easily recognisable. Castiel absently realised that this was the green-eyed man’s voice and tried to bring the name back to his consciousness. Dean, that was it.

As Castiel began to regain some clarity over his surroundings he noticed Dean had been addressing his blonde guard. She was shifting uncomfortably under the attention, with beetroot red cheeks and she seemed to have lost her voice. Castiel didn’t blame her. He would probably be equally speechless under such conditions. The entire clearing had a hushed tone, as if someone had poured a jug of freezing water over the earlier festive atmosphere. Even the birds seemed to have embraced this silence.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” When she still didn’t reply Castiel saw Dean take a step closer and lower his voice to a dangerous level. “Since you obviously can’t even handle the responsibility of being a guard you’ll no longer have the honour. You’re too much of a child to wear my livery. I want your tunic cleaned and returned to me by the end of tomorrow. You will report to Benny tomorrow for kitchen duty and I expect you to make a formal apology to our guest.”

There was a universal gasp once this verdict had been announced, and Castiel could tell that for the young woman in question this reprimand was earth shattering. Jo stared at Dean in utter shock for a few heartbeats, before turning her gaze to fixate at a point upon the ground. She gave a barely perceptible nod. Her eyes stayed focused upon the floor as she turned towards Castiel and muttered “Sorry.”

“I don’t think we heard that.” Dean’s abrasive voice was unrelenting.

“I’m sorry.” She said much more clearly, but with a slight stutter.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry for being too eager to come back to the clearing. I’m sorry for not taking heed of his injuries and for neglecting my duties.”

She looked over at Dean, who gave an angry nod. Her eyes met with Castiel’s, brimming over with deep burning anger and hot accusation. Castiel thought he could perceive the start of tears of humiliation and so without a second thought placed a light touch on her wrist and said “No damage done.”

This turned out to be a mistake as she pulled away from his touch in an aggressive motion and turned a hate filled glare upon him.

“Jo I think our guest would like some stew and ale.” If possible Dean’s voice seemed even harder after Jo’s display of anger. She stormed back across the clearing towards the pot of stew, sending seething glared towards anyone who caught her eye as the rest of the people tried to pretend they had heard nothing and were just carrying on with their conversations. Castiel had the funny sense that if Dean were not so angry then the rest of the group would have been ribbing Jo about the reprimand.

Castiel sat up straighter, taking in his surroundings. From what he had seen it was unequivocally clear that Dean was the leader of the pack. Just what he wanted from Castiel was uncertain, but it did appear that he and Anna and Lily were safe, at least for the time being. 

He accepted the bowl from Jo hands attempting to give her a shaky smile, which only seemed to make her angrier. However, he was having some trouble with scooping up the contents which was rectified when he heard a rustling of skirts next to him and soft hands taking possession of the bowl. He gave Anna a small smile, relaxing briefly into her bracing hug. Apart from a little rope burn on her wrists, and a few tears and muddy patches on her dress she seemed to be perfectly fine. They didn’t say anything; they had never had much use for words. This behaviour would perfectly fit Dean’s assessment of them as fiancés anyway. If the outlaw wanted to believe that they were engaged then let him, it could only put Anna further from harm.

As she scooped up the stew onto the spoon, he glanced away and caught Dean wistfully staring at them. Castiel wasn’t allowed much time to consider this before his entire being was consumed with the task of filling his painfully empty stomach. It took Anna a while to feed him, and by the time he was finished he felt almost up to his normal strength.

The clearing seemed to have gone back to its normal pattern after the incident with Jo and Dean, and Castiel could feel himself being drawn into the cheery ambiance as he sat quietly with Anna. Any attempt to rub the dratted mud off of his clothes was proving to be futile anyway so he might as well make the best of the situation. Castiel watched Dean intervene between a couple of guys who were getting increasingly aggressive in their boasts. Each man was led off into the depths of the wood, presumably to sleep off the effects of the ale.

Much later on in the evening, Castiel was disturbed by a dark shadow that he could vaguely make out as Dean which settled down next to him and spoke quietly.

“You know I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“I didn’t believe that you did.” Castiel replied, surprising himself. He would never have expected to feel any amount of sympathy towards an outlaw. The man had knocked him unconscious. And yet, he had shown regret, and it appeared that he offered no immediate threat to Castiel and Anna.

“Jo’s just a bit …inexperienced. She hasn’t got the hang of the whole obedient outlaw role yet.”

Castiel hummed in agreement before quietly studying the outlaw with his head tilted to one side. “You know you were possibly a little hard on her.”

Surprise seemed to permeate Dean’s body as he focused on Castiel. He looked to be considering the possibility for a few moments before he nodded. 

“I know, but I just can’t allow my men to act like that with no repercussions.”

“I think your wrath and denouncement hurt her more than anything. She would benefit from a kind word.” Castiel was astonished to see that his suggestion was being taken seriously, rather than leading towards a vicious retaliation. Dean was looking across the campfire at Jo’s sulking form, obviously weighing the value of Castiel’s words.

“You’re probably right Cas. I’ll have a word with her in a bit. I just wanted to say that we can’t let you go, not until we know what your purpose is in travelling to Nottingham. But we can straighten that out tomorrow. In the meantime you can bunk with me, and the redhead and girl can stay in Charlie’s treehouse. Your royal guards are all in a pen among the trees, along with your horses and will be comfortable until tomorrow.

“I obviously don’t need to point out that you have no way to escape. Even if you managed it you wouldn’t be able to get out of the woods by yourselves” If Castiel shivered at the use of the nickname he didn’t show it. The outlaw truly did look regretful about the situation, and Castiel was surprised that he’d even bothered to keep the guards alive.

Castiel merely bowed his head. “That is acceptable for tonight. Although my …fiancé… and I would prefer to share a room, along with her maidservant.”

Dean raised his eyebrows suggestively “I bet you would. Unfortunately, I don’t have the manpower to set a guard over three people, and we don’t have a room to spare anyway. So for tonight you’re going to have to keep your heathen impulses within your tunic.”

A worried sigh escaped Castiel’s lips and he completely ignored the outlaw’s jibes. He didn’t like the idea of Anna sleeping alone in the forest with these ruffians. At least she and Lily would be together.

Once Dean had left to go find Jo, Castiel noticed that he and Anna had some semblance of privacy for the first time that evening. They quickly made use of this, trying to hash out a means of escape. Anna wanted them both to escape at the first opportunity, but Castiel was beginning to think that their best bet might be to see where this situation with the outlaw led. They had no horses, guards, or knowledge of the forest and didn’t even know the right direction to go in. Besides, they couldn’t leave Lily and she would struggle in the depths of the forest. In the end Castiel won, but Anna was not entirely convinced. An afternoon tied to a tree hadn’t done her temper any good.

As the fire began to burn low, letting out a much more otherworldly form of light, the chatter began to quieten down and an expectant air pervaded the clearing. Castiel had picked up a large number of the outlaw’s names as he sat quietly observing, including that of man named Friar Bobby Tuck, or just Bobby as he was to the majority. Bobby put a hand on Chuck’s back (apparently he was the minstrel), pushing him into the flickering light of the campfire.

There was a round of cheering, and of chanting ‘Chuck, Chuck, Chuck’ which transformed into ‘Charlie, Charlie, Charlie’ as a ginger woman stood up to join him. She gave him a big smile and started running her deft fingers along a small harp. Chuck looked extremely nervy for a minstrel, stroking at his beard and running a hand along the back of his neck.

The chanting died off as Chuck began to speak in a singsong voice to the accompaniment of the harp, gradually becoming more fluid and confident.

“Lythe and listen gentlemen” This was interrupted by a catcall of “And Ladies” from a woman who appeared to be called Ellen. 

“…And ladies  
That be of free born blood  
Let me tell you of a good yeoman  
Whose name was Robin Hood”

At this a great cheering and feet pounding rang out, which only settled down as Dean called out “Come on Chuck, you can do better than that. I never liked that Robin Hood character, much too unsavoury. I heard that he’s a complete terror, ravishing women all over the place and hounding the privileged.” This in turn drew a large hooting. “What about the story of Tristan and Iseult, or King Arthur.”

Castiel was startled by the speed with which the people in the clearing mocked their leader’s suggestion. Particularly after his earlier display, Castiel had assumed that Dean would not allow even a small amount of doubt to cloud his authority. And yet when the rest of the men demanded the story of ‘Robin Hood and Little John’ (whoever that was) Dean just smiled and graciously waved his hand.

The audience settled down, and Chuck embarked on a tale full of slapstick and teasing. The story consisted of how two brothers had been crossing a stream, and had got into an argument over which of them should be the first to cross. Robin Hood insisted that since he was the eldest he should be the first to cross, but his giant of a brother had suggested that his height and strength gave him the priority. Long story short, after a lot of blows, boasting and insults, the brothers had ended up having a quarter staff fight upon the bridge. Robin Hood was thrown into the water, and was fished out by a concerned brother who had only just remembered Robin’s fear of swimming. 

The story was a great hit, earning lots of guffaws and giggles. It was only halfway through the story that Castiel realised that every time Robin Hood was insulted or humiliated Dean found himself slapped on the shoulder, and that every time Little John was shown up someone would ruffle the hair of the giant man (who he had now realised was called Sam). 

“Wait, I thought you were Dean and Sam. But you’re also Robin Hood and Little John?” Castiel’s voice cut through the silence permeating the clearing. Mocking laughter followed Castiel’s confused look. Fortunately, Ellen took pity on him.

“Dean’s Robin Hood. Because he robs and he wears a hood. He’s never been one for subtlety.” This commentary earned Ellen a cocky grin from the outlaw. “And Sam’s called Little John because when he was younger he was the spitting image of his father, John. And there’s obviously a touch of irony.”

From the back of the group a female voice clearly called “And not to forget because of all the ladies who have been disappointed by ‘Little John’.” This resulted in five minutes of bawdy laughter and course jokes before the story could be continued. Castiel was glad that Jo had managed to recover from her sulk after Dean had talked to her.

Once the story had concluded, everyone started yawning, picking themselves up and disappearing into the forest. Castiel was in awe at the irreverential nature of Chuck’s story, and at how Sam and Dean had allowed a tale that mocked their pride to be told to their band. Anna grasped his hand briefly as she and Lily were led off into the darkness by the chattering harpist. Lily had been stuck to Anna’s side all night, refusing to laugh, staring unblinkingly and generally making everyone awkward.

He turned to survey the campfire, which was all but dead. Apart from the two men, whom he gathered were Garth and Ash, eradicating all evidence of merrymaking, he and Dean were the only ones remaining in the clearing.

“We should probably hit the hay. Night Garth, night Ash.” Dean’s statement was punctuated by a drawn out yawn.

Castiel found himself following the outlaw beyond the clearing and into the rustling blackness of the trees. He was still suffering the effects of the knock on his head and had probably partaken a little too enthusiastically of the free ale. His feet did not want to go to the places he willed them. 

Eventually he found a firm hand grasping his. It did much to alleviate the apprehension he felt at being in the untamed woods in the middle of the night. After what seemed like an age, and an endless amount of walking into trees, Castiel found himself being pushed into a small opening even more devoid of light than the rest of the forest.

Once inside he felt himself being pressed to the ground, which was a lot squashier than expected. The strong arms left his body, making him whimper as he let the stress of the day and the darkness claim him, and he fell fast asleep.

****


	2. A Guest of Dean Hood: Part 2

Dean woke up the next morning to see bright blue eyes spearing into his. He quickly sat up, drawing his blanket up with him. The wet patch on the leaf strewn floor attested to the fact that he had been drooling, and the chances were that he had been snoring too. Brilliant. 

His companion smiled as he watched Dean’s eyes drop to the drool patch. God that bedhead was irresistible. How was Cas able to look so together when Dean obviously didn’t. Something else was bothering Dean, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Wait, he was on the wrong side of the cave. Last night he could have sworn that he went to sleep on the other side. That meant…

“Did we spoon last night?” Dean could barely raise his eyes to look over at the other man.

Cas tilted his head to one side, in a way that Dean was beginning to realise was his signature move. “I believe so, although I can’t personally remember it.” The rasping voice seemed to hold no emotion or opinion upon this fact.

“Well let’s keep that between ourselves, okay?”

“Okay” although the perplexed tone and slight frown suggested that Cas didn’t understand why spooning with a guy was an issue.

Dean quickly got up and bundled his prisoner out through the cave entrance, before realising that he needed to protect the cave’s location. He grabbed a scrap of cloth and swiftly knotted it at the back of Cas’ head, after Cas had nodded in permission. The blind walk through the forest didn’t seem to faze the captive, in fact if anything Cas appeared to enjoy it.

There was a hum coming from between his chapped lips as he let Dean lead him through the dense undergrowth. Dean wouldn’t admit it but he was highly gratified by the amount of trust he appeared to inspire in Cas. As a result, he kept his movements particularly slow and careful, guiding him around obstacles with a sensitive touch. 

In no time at all they had reached the clearing where a much smaller and more economical fire was crackling than the one from the previous night. Dean removed Cas’ blindfold, feeling a thrill run down his back as Cas sat down on a log obediently. He went to fetch some porridge from a pot, getting a slap round the back of his head from Bobby as he attempted to pinch some apple sauce to supplement the simple breakfast.

Dean handed over the porridge without a sound, feeling a smile tug his lips at Cas’ purr of appreciation. They sat devouring the food in companionable silence, before scuttling towards the fire as a means of protecting them from the morning chill.

People drifted in and out of the clearing, and although still a sociable situation, breakfast was much more of an efficient and purposeful affair than supper. In many ways Dean preferred breakfast, as he was generally left to his own devices and people only really came to him if they had a problem or needed some advice. Therefore he could sit quietly until someone came along, and even then their questions tended to make him feel important and valued. After they’d finished eating he moved Cas and himself underneath the canopy, in case it rained.

Every so often someone came along to ask if there were any raids today, or if the underground larder needed stocking with one item or another. Cas seemed happy to listen to these exchanges, although his expression became more and more baffled as the morning went on. This articulated itself after a case where Dean had to sort out a dispute between Benny and Sam. 

Benny had only been the Merry Men’s cook for a few weeks, and Sam had taken a serious dislike to him. Sam was officially claiming that Benny had been buying cheaper cooking ingredients and pocketing the difference. After taking in both sides of the story, Dean had discovered that the spare money had actually been put towards a new cooking pot and material for some more hunting traps. Sam went away looking a bit shamefaced, whilst Benny just gave Dean a sad smile.

Castiels response to this was extremely puzzled. “Why did you choose to take that approach to deal with that matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Sam is your brother, and your right hand man.”

“Yeah, and so?”

“Surely you would have taken his word over Benny’s.” Cas’ countenance of complete bewilderment was almost cute.

“But Sammy’s not perfect and Benny had a good reason. If I hadn’t have heard him out then it would just have caused a lot of unnecessary shit.”

“I just find it difficult to fathom why you would act in such an aggressive manner towards my …ah finance…and overreact to Jo’s mistake, and yet you are perfectly happy for your men to mock you, you allow the royal guards to live and you give Benny a fair hearing against your brother.” Cas looked uncomfortable, and shifted away from Dean, tapping his fingers gently against his leg.

Dean pondered for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, my men are what’s important. Of course Sam comes before anyone else, but my second priority is to keep my dad’s legacy going. He left me some pretty big shoes to fill. Sometimes I overcompensate, like with Jo, but I can’t show even a moment of weakness. If I falter for even a minute our whole world’s gone. I’ve already been responsible for enough suffering in this world.” The words caught in Dean’s throat and he ended up having to cough them out. 

“There was no need to kill the guards. The rapport with my men, and their faith that I will deal with them justly is what keeps us strong. I couldn’t sacrifice that for anything, so I needed to listen to Benny’s side. And as for your fiancé, forgive me for saying this, but she represents everything that’s wrong with the world.” It was only once he had finished his speech that he realised he had never given anyone this much of an explanation before.

He turned to face the judgement in the blue eyes, but found only a cautious respect. Cas waited a minute before countering. “That is all comprehensible, but I don’t understand the issue you take with Anna. She is a kindly creature with a lot of love in her heart and a pure soul. She also has more spirit than anyone I have ever known, and always stands up for what she believes in.”

Dean felt an icy shiver of definitely-not-jealousy snake down his body. The glint in Cas’ eyes told him that he needed to tread carefully as regards to Anna.

“I don’t doubt that she’s a real pleasant person to be around. But just by existing she contributes towards a society where people are repressed. She spends literal fortunes on dresses whilst the average family can’t even afford a meal. She flirts with Lords and Counts while Prince Lucifer usurps King Michael’s throne and honest working people can’t get what they need from the forest.” Dean could feel himself becoming heated and forced himself to stop before his rant got any more expressive.

The warm smoulder that had graced Cas’ eyes quickly replaced itself with a callous veneer. His gritty voice became severe. “Well I’m sorry that you find myself and Anna so repulsive. I would make a hasty retreat from your presence if that would not lead to a violent reaction.”

“Hey I never said th…”

“It does make one wonder what it is that a mere outlaw can achieve that us petty aristocrats are incapable of.”

Dean immediately felt regret settle over his stomach at his earlier outburst, and yet Castiel’s malicious tone chafed too harshly against his sensitive pride for him to apologise. How dare he display that contemptuous attitude towards Dean, Dean. Well Dean was certainly not going to justify himself to some ignorant puffed up peacock. 

Keeping his eyes averted from Castiel’s, Dean clicked his fingers at the closest passing figure, who seemed surprised by the curt nature of the gesture. It turned out to be Kevin, shifting from foot to foot in an anxious pattern.

“Take his Lordship Castiel to the other side of the clearing. Preferably somewhere where I can’t see his ugly mug.” Kevin had obviously noticed the imperious quality to Dean’s voice because he merely nodded in acquiescence and placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. This gained no reaction as Castiel remained sitting in an unnervingly ridged position. Dean completely ignored the way his eye’s seemed to search his face.

“And you can leave the forest whenever you want. You can just tell me what you and your bitch are doing in Nottingham.” Kevin’s gasp of disbelief was enough to tell Dean that he had gone too far. Not his brightest move, insulting the guy’s fiancé. But like hell was he going to take it back. Castiel’s frosty treatment had snapped something inside of him, particularly after the companionable morning they’d spent together.

Dean felt rather than saw Castiel stiffly stand up and let himself be directed off by Kevin. He was going to completely ignore the fact that he had turned bright red from the moment he had called Anna a bitch.

The rest of the morning dragged on, like a cart led by a three legged donkey. His men (and women) were avoiding him like the plague. Only the most urgent matters were brought before him, and his terse replies did little to alleviate the dirty stares that were being directed towards him. It was funny how fast gossip travelled in the forest.

As it neared lunchtime he saw a pair of redheads stepping in front of him. Charlie was completely flustered, rattling on and on about how she had planned to bring Anna back to the clearing for breakfast like she had been ordered, but then they had decided to change dresses, and then they had been practicing archery and hadn’t realised how late it was. She quickly shut up as she felt the full force of his scowl. This was the perfect opportunity to release all the burning fury that had been seething through his veins all morning. Lashing out was sure to make him feel much better, but one look at Charlie’s fretful face was enough to rein him in. God she was like a startled deer with those doe eyes. 

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. I can’t be bothered to deal with this shit right now. Just take Anna over to Kevin, she may as well help with the weapons this afternoon. Although the sooner she and her lover tell me what they’re doing in Nottingham, the sooner they can get out of our hair.”

He was surprised to see a woeful expression cross Charlie’s face at this.

“Castiel hasn’t told you why we’re here.” Anna said, her confused look was almost reminiscent of Castiel’s.

“Nope, care to elaborate?”

“Not if Castiel hasn’t.” She bit her lip.

Dean sighed and waved them off, calling Charlie back to tell her that she might as well take Jo’s uniform since she wasn’t going to be using it for a while.

The speed with which news of the incident with Castiel spread round the campsite was demonstrated in the determined figure of Ellen storming in his direction. Frickin’ wonderful.

She pursed her lips as she looked him up and down. “Dean Winchester what are you playing at? What the hell has gotten into you these past couple of days?”

There was only one way to respond, and he just couldn’t help himself. He flashed his most self-important smile. “Nothing. Why, Ellen, you offering?”

He should have been expecting the sharp pain that shot through the back of his head as the palm of her hand made contact.

“First you flare up at Jo. I let that one go because I figured she’d messed up and I’d rather she was away from the front line anyway.” Ellen had always been protective to a fault when it came to her only daughter. “But now you lose your temper. In front of a prisoner. And spend the entire morning glowering at everyone and acting like a sulky child. This is no way to run an outlaw gang. What would your daddy say?”

Dean could feel his cheeks returning to their earlier flushed colouring. There were very few people who had the power to reduce him to feeling like a child, but Ellen was definitely one of them.

“I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t care. Your father wouldn’t either.” Dean physically started at that. “Just get your shit together.”

She leaned really close “Remember I know things. And, just so we’re clear, you ever hurt Jo again and I’m going to show you those things.” All Dean could do was smile weakly at her as she swiftly marched off to make sure everyone had a job to do. God that woman was terrifying.

“Things!” Dean muttered once he ensured she was out of earshot. “She knows things.”

His red hue deepened as he realised that Castiel was staring over at him from the other side of the frail fire.

****

 

It was not obvious from his outward appearance, but the fight with Dean had really shaken Castiel up. Never before had he really cared what anyone thought of him. He normally tried his best to please his family, but that was more for posterity’s sake than out of any familial love. And yet the suggestion that Dean saw him as little more than a spoilt oppressor froze his insides.

Despite this nagging sensation, and his position as a captive, Castiel gradually found himself relaxing around the other outlaws. They likewise seemed to feel at ease around him, chattering to each other and just generally ignoring him. This was an unusual scenario for Castiel, as more often than not he was forced into social settings that required heavy starched cloth and stuffy, demanding company.

The vast majority of the morning was spent lying against a log, humming to himself and listening to an involved debate between Kevin, Ash and Garth over what constituted the proper technique for archery. Apart from the odd snatches of conversation he mostly pondered his current situation. Instead of making painful small talk with one of Gabriel’s slobbering lapdogs, he was able just to sit and peaceably stare at leaves dancing in branches far above his head. Maybe getting kidnapped and being in the forest wasn’t so bad.

The morning took on even more of a pleasant slant as Anna, Lily and Charlie joined them. Charlie seemed to have a lot to add to the debate concerning how to string a bow. Anna hung onto every word of the conversation, drinking everything in and asking a never-ending series of questions. It turned out that Charlie and she had hit it off and had spent the morning skipping round, swapping dresses and practicing shooting. 

Castiel would have been more surprised by his dainty, ladylike sister if it hadn’t been for a particular set of distant memories hiding in the furthest recesses of his brain. Anna chasing him round with wooden swords and pelting him with toy arrows. Punching him in the shoulder (hard) when he and Gabriel tricked her into playing hide and seek by herself. Kissing him on the head after a particularly hard blow from their eldest brother. This thought pattern quickly drew him down the path of nostalgia and he lost himself in the only truly happy memories he possessed.

He was gently roused from his reminisces by a soft touch from Anna. Castiel assured her that his head was fine, and was taken aback by the warm smile he received in return. The forest air seemed to agree with her, her unwimpled hair was ruffled by the wind and her cheeks had a healthy tint. Even Lily seemed ever so slightly happier than usual as she had removed her shoes, although her stare was as piercing and unrelenting as usual.

Castiel looked over at Dean, who didn’t seem to have moved from the spot since their altercation. Ellen, the hot-headed brunette, was laying into him and by the colour in Dean’s cheeks Castiel could only assume that it was having the desired effect. Castiel refused to look away, even as Dean’s eyes met his. He only pulled his gaze down when Ellen unceremoniously dumped a large pile of wood in the centre of their small group.

“Get to it you lazy louts.” and with that she sauntered away from them.

Castiel let bafflement wash over him as he watched the outlaws each pick up one of the thin six foot logs along with one of the tools Ellen had left them. Charlie smiled at him before she started rubbing the tool up and down the log, leaving a small pile of shavings underneath.

“We’re making quarterstaffs. Here, you have to dig the blade in to shave off the outer layer of wood. Not too hard. Wait. Look. Like this.”

Anna quickly gave up on the task, not responding well to the effort needed to exert the right level of pressure. Lily made no attempt to assist with the chore, and continued to survey everyone silently from beneath long lashes. Castiel, on the other hand, found his assignment engaging and rewarding. After a handful of false starts he managed to get the blade responding to his touch with satisfying ease.

With the distraction of the work, the afternoon quickly came and Castiel realised that the outlaws must not receive lunch. He ignored his rumbling stomach as he embraced the happy strain building in his muscles. 

In the heat of the afternoon, many of the outlaws populating the clearing started to remove items of clothing. Most of the men were down to their breeches in no time, whilst the women rolled up their sleeves. Without thinking, Castiel quickly joined them, peeling back layer upon layer of expensive purple cloth. He dumped them on the dusty ground. No seamstress would be able to undo the damage inflicted by his time in the forest anyway. 

As he pulled the last layer over his head, he felt it get stuck. After a couple of minutes struggling he managed to pull it free, liberating his sight to reveal a pair of green eyes roving their way down his torso from just a couple of feet away. Well it didn’t seem to have taken Dean long to get over his aversion to Castiel’s presence. Castiel failed to hold back a smirk at how Dean’s attention appeared to be glued to his midriff.

“How’re the staves coming along?” It took Castiel a minute to realise that he was addressing Charlie since the outlaw’s gaze was still firmly fixed on Castiel’s chest.

“They’re coming along fine. Although they’re nowhere near as interesting as Castiel’s muscles.” Charlie’s cheeky delivery made Dean physically start, and Castiel could see him trying to look everywhere except at him.

Charlie beamed at Dean and ignored his shamefaced countenance as she continued talking. “It’s thirsty work though; we could do with a drink.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly, gaining a nod from Dean. If Castiel didn’t know better, he could have sworn that the outlaw’s cheeks were adopting a reddish tinge.

When Dean returned with the ale, he kept his eyes averted from Castiel’s. For some reason he found this bashful behaviour highly endearing. Those long fluttering lashes and…No. This was his captor, and a man who had shown no small level of contempt towards himself and his sister. That thought sustained the glower he continued to level at Dean. 

It seemed to work. Dean shifted uncomfortably and quickly moved onto another group of people sitting on another set of logs. Apart from the earlier staring, Dean seemed merely to be pretending that Castiel did not exist.

Castiel returned his attention to his half-finished staff, and let the work absorb his entire being. It wasn’t until a few hours later that he was brought back to reality as the other scratching sounds around him stopped. 

Anna was laid out on a log, arm over her face and breathing heavily. Lily sat next to her, also apparently asleep. However, the four outlaws he had been working alongside were all gawking avidly at a woman chopping logs on the other side of the clearing. She had paused in her activity and was in the process of removing her shirt, to reveal a much smaller shirt underneath. A collective sigh went round the others.

“Wow I love Pamela.” Ash breathed. Charlie pulled her eyes away and playfully slapped Ash with the back of her hand. 

“Stop ogling the log choppers and get back to work. Knowing Pamela, she’ll have a pile of logs the height of Sam before we have chance to finish this lot. And I want to be done before it gets dark.”

A teasing smile crossed Garth’s face. “You mean you want to be able to get your ‘harp’ out and sweep all the young maidens off their feet.”

“Hey, Charlie’s not like that.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Anna sat up, apparently awake. “She’s very discerning in her choice of lovers.” There was a fierce set to her posture.

“I know that, I was just messing with her.”

“Just because she likes women doesn’t mean she drops her bloomers for just anyone!”

“What do you mean likes women?” Castiel found Charlie gaping at him, and he realised that he hadn’t said anything since his short conversation with Anna much earlier in the day. He looked away when he gathered that his stare was making her uncomfortable.

“Well you see Charlie here happens to like women.” Garth contributed, the teasing smile back on his face.

“She likes women?” 

“You know, the female of the species.” When Cas still looked confused Garth elaborated. “She likes to lie with women, carnally speaking.”

Ah that made sense; he had noticed the looks that Charlie had been burning into Anna all day. Well unfortunately for Charlie, Castiel was fairly sure that Anna did not share a similar disposition. Having grown up with her, he knew that she was firmly into men and that she had no interest in women. It had been obvious from the time he and Gabriel had caught her with that kid. What had been his name, Dan something?

Charlie had started shifting around, fidgeting and fiddling with a splinter she had recieved from one of the logs. 

“Well I would not have assumed Charlie was the promiscuous type anyway.” The grateful smile he received from Charlie grew when Anna said “She’s not.”

“I never said she was.” Garth countered.

Castiel looked around in wonder as everyone serenely went back to the quarterstaffs with a renewed vigour. He didn’t think that he had been anywhere where such a situation would be so calmly received. With a lot of elbow grease they eventually got to the bottom of their pile of quarterstaffs. He barely had time to stretch his aching shoulders before the woman they had all been staring at earlier, Pamela, sauntered over and dumped another lot in front of them.

“Hey Garth.” She ran her hand along his shoulder stopping at the base of his neck, which promptly responded by turned red.

“Hi Pamela.” Garth’s prominent ears followed his necks new colouring as her finger stroked his generously sized nose. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the surreal situation unfolding in front of them.

“Oh Sweetpea, you can call me Pammy” Her sultry voice seemed to tamper with Garth’s ability to reply. “I’m gonna see you at the dance tonight.” It was obviously a statement not a question.

“Well, that’s me done, I’ll see you suckers later.” She slunk off without looking back, giving a little wave with her hand and leaving them in gobsmacked silence.

“How do you manage it man?” Ash’s awestruck voice broke the silence.

“It’s my personality. And I’m a very respectful lover.” Castiel had to chuckle at the way Ash didn’t seem to know how to respond to such a deadpan response.

The second lot of staffs seemed to be a lot heavier, and the entire team struggled to maintain their pace. By the time the clearing started to fill with a vast collection of hungry outlaws, they had almost slowed to a stop. Kevin declared that he was going to go mad if they didn’t stop, and so they carted off all the completed, and half completed, staffs off to the ‘armoury’. The ‘armoury’ turned out to be a hidden hole a few minutes off in the woods.

Once they’d returned to the clearing it turned out that tea was well on its way, and a sullen Anna and stoic Lily had been dragged off to help as, according to Ellen, they had just been “sat on their spoilt asses” all day. Anna’s face was a pretty picture as she challenged each order given to her. Having said that, it was pretty funny the almost instantaneous change that occurred when she finally accepted her task and became fully focused on the turnips she was preparing.

Castiel’s whole body was awash with a heavy lethargic sensation. And he eased himself down onto a log, stifling a yawn. Evening banter and rowdy behaviour accompanied the dispersal of ale flagons, and Castiel could feel himself relaxing into a half-awake doze.

A huge figure settled down next to him. It was the giant, Sam, who was munching on a plate full of turnip. Castiel shifted away from his presence, keeping a wary distance. Sam didn’t seem to notice and instead focused his attention on Kevin, describing some of the wildlife he had come across that day.

The falling of dusk was accompanied by a drop in temperature, and a chill pervaded the air, sneaking its way across his skin. Castiel kicked at his pile of clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to don the tattered cloth. A shiver ran down his spine and his body unconsciously leaned closer to the fire.  
An unexpected tender touch placed a blanket over his shoulders, stroking over the place where his hands were rubbing his arms. A green shirt was dumped in his lap. Castiel turned round to thank his knight in shining armour, only to find that it was Dean. He gave Castiel an expressionless headshake and forced his way onto the seat, in between Kevin and Sam. 

Well that was weird. What did Dean care that some spoiled lord was cold. He had made it pretty clear how he felt. Obviously he was just concerned about keeping his prisoner in good nick.

Castiel pulled the raspy fabric of the shirt over his head before drawing the blanket closer around himself. Soon he found himself with a thick chunk of meat wedged inbetween two slices of bread, along with a bowl of mashed turnip. After the afternoon’s exertions he eagerly devoured the entire lot in a rather indelicate manner.

“You see Sam, that’s how you should eat.” Dean’s mouth was slightly agape in admiration. The sandwich in his hand dropped down from his mouth and he slowly licked his lips.

“Yeah if you want to make yourself ill” Sam gave his brother a superior look before studying Dean’s half eaten meal. “Wait a minute, you’re not hungry”

Dean looked down, seeming to consider and said “No.”Castiel found the knowing look on Sam’s face to be extremely puzzling.

“What, I’m not hungry.” It really was strange how defensive Dean was over this. But more importantly, Castiel’s dinner had not fully satiated his appetite. Since Dean already had a low opinion of him, would it really matter if he betrayed a little more of his dignity. 

“Then you’re not going to finish that?” Without further thought Castiel grabbed the food out of Dean’s hand and returned to eating as if there was no tomorrow. He practically shoved the entire meal into his mouth in one go. Each bite barely touched the sides, and despite its simplicity he would have argued that it was the most delicious meal he had ever had. Dean’s eyes were focused on Castiel’s mouth as he ran the back of his hand over it, capturing any escaped juice.

The outlaw continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression. So he had disgusted the brute. Good. Although the prickly sensation of embarrassment in his stomach was suggesting that his uncouth behaviour had perhaps been a mistake. Eventually Dean seemed to redirect his disgust towards his ale, which he drank in generous glugs.

A slim figure pranced past the group, one hand resting on the hilt of their sword, the other holding a bow. The path they took around the logs suggested that they had no interest in the group, but the way they looked back over their shoulder and swayed their hips suggested otherwise. It was definitely a female.

Castiel assumed that none of the others had noticed her, until Dean’s mouthful of ale ended up being sprayed across an impressively large distance. Between the resulting coughs, a very clear bark of “Krissy!” could be distinguished.

The female made her way towards them, and Castiel guessed that she couldn’t be more than fifteen. The swaying of her hips became more pronounced and Castiel realised that she seemed to be wearing a revealing version of the livery, with pieces torn off with obviously fashionable aims.

“Yes, Dean” Her sweet lilted voice was dripping with challenge, and she sported a smile that could only serve to infuriate Dean.

Dean spluttered some more. “Krissy, what the hell are you wearing”

“I think you’ll find they’re clothes, Dean”

“No, that’s a lack of clothes. And I specifically told you, no livery. You’re too young.”

The last comment appeared to Castiel to have gone too far, and he could almost see the girl’s metaphorical hackles rising. “The rule is that anyone who can pass the three shots gets to be a fully fledged member of the Merry Men, and is given the livery. I’ve made that shot thousands of times and you still treat me like a kid. And it’s not your livery, it’s just a normal tunic, look no badge.”

“There’s no way in hell you’re joining the Merry Men at your age!”

“Fine then, I guess if you don’t give me a proper livery I’ll just have to keep wearing this.”

“Look here’s the deal; I’m a fun guy. I’m actually awesome. Okay. But right now, I’m not in the mood. That gear is not appropriate. I don’t care whether you wear a tunic or a dress or a goddamn monk’s habit but for god’s sake cover up.” Dean did not seem to react well to the teenager’s petulant tone.

“You never tell Pamela she has to cover up.” 

“Well Pamela’s a full grown woman, not a..a..kid. Tell you what, when you reach eighteen you can wear whatever you like. Until then just please put something else on.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m fifteen. Are you going to give me a proper tunic or not?”

“Hell no!”

“Then I’m not going to get changed.”

“Just go get changed before I send you straight back home to your father and see what he has to say about this.”

An unamused snort exploded from Krissy’s nose. “We both know exactly what he’ll have to say ‘Pass me the whiskey.’ It’s not like you’re my father or my brother or anything, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Dean’s face had visibly softened at this, but Castiel could still see a firm set his mouth. “No but I care about you, and if you want to keep hanging around then you’re gonna have to play by my rules.”

“What’s your problem? You and Sam were Merry Men as soon as you became teenagers. All I want is the chance to prove myself.”

“It’s not happening. You give this up, or you’re out of here. The fact that you can’t obey my orders proves how unprepared you are. And I’m not having a childish liability running round and putting everyone in danger.” 

“Whatever, Dean.” Krissy stomped her foot in frustration, and marched off. After a few steps she stiffened, turned to give Dean an impudent smirk and went back to the exaggerated swaying walk. This movement lacked any sophistication, and Castiel deemed it very silly and immature. Yet it seemed to have the desired effect on Dean as he ground his teeth together.

“Dean, you’re never going to cast her out.” Sam spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I know, I’m just running out of options. She won’t listen to a bloody word I say. Her dad’s no help, constantly chasing the bottom of a bottle. He’s only part of the gang so I can keep an eye on Krissy. And now I’ve run out of ideas and am down to making empty threats.” He ran an angry hand through his hair.

“What about appearing to compromise? You could give her the badge but not put her on any dangerous missions.” Castiel was startled by the sound of his own voice. He had not meant to speak aloud, and was still trying to maintain his distance from the green eyed outlaw.

“Shut up Cas, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean’s harsh words were slightly tempered by the nickname, but still enough to make Castiel reflect again upon his hatred for Dean.

“He’s got a point. So has Krissy. She’s as good a shot as any of the outlaws, you know that. She could be really useful on raids.”

“No Sam.” Dean’s tone dripped with weariness.

“Bu…”

“I said NO Sammy. It’s not happening. Ever. She’s not ending up like us. Krissy is going to have the chance to live a normal life. Even if that means that I have to lock her in her freaking house for the next three years.” Dean abruptly stood up, clearly ending the conversation. Castiel could only shake his head at the man’s purposeful stagger in the direction of the ale barrels.

****


	3. A Guest of Dean Hood: Part 3

Dean reached for a pitcher, channelling his anger into his desperate chugging. God it had been an awful day. And waking up to those blue eyes had been so promising. Garth and Pamela were giving him an astounded stare down when he finally finished.

“What?” This was said with even more venom than he had intended. Pamela just directed a sultry smile at him before she shrugged. He really needed to get his temper in check.

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” Pamela’s voice clearly showed that she was barely refraining from laughing at him. He uncomfortably ignored her as she grabbed a mug.

Dean filled up his pitcher again, before offering one to Garth. Garth calmly took the pitcher from Dean’s hand. He proceeded to pour the entirety of the silky liquid down his throat in one fell swoop, not even pausing for breath. Well, that was unexpected

“I don’t even usually drink beer, it messes with my depth perception.” The accompanying deep burp and cough seemed to attest to the fact. “Especially when I skinny dip.” The exaggerated wink Garth directed in Pamela’s direction as he stretched an arm over her shoulder seemed to be appreciated as she laughed with him.

Garth’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Hey you guys wanna hear a joke”. He broke down into uncontrollable giggling, chuckling against Pamela’s shoulder. 

There was an incredulous note to Dean’s voice as he asked “Garth, are you drunk?”

“I just drunk the whole beer, of course I’m drunk. Hey, can I have some more thigh slapper.” Pamela frowned as Garth failed to navigate the few steps towards the beer barrel and collapsed in a giggling heap on the floor.

“Now look what you’ve done, Dean. What use is he to me like this?” Pamela’s voice resounded with exasperation. Dean just shrugged an apology. It wasn’t his fault if Garth couldn’t hold his booze.

Another pitcher in hand, Dean found his way to a solitary log and philosophised upon shitstorm that was his life. It wasn’t long before his musings were interrupted by the lilting music of Charlie’s harp, accompanied by some local village musicians sporting a range of instruments. 

Oh. He’d forgotten it was a dance night. Cassie must be round here somewhere with her soft skin and dark curls. Maybe she’d be up for a dance, help to distract him from his melancholy. After everything that had happened between them, there was no way she would expect more than that from him. He didn’t think he could deal with anything more complicated than a dance at that point.

Dean cradled his pitcher as he wandered around the clearing, avoiding the gathering couples and keeping his eyes out for Cassie’s black curls. He went over to where Sam was sat. 

“Have you seen Cassie?” Sam’s weary headshake just reminded Dean of their earlier conversation and all the crap he still had to deal with. Well he was just going to ignore the fact that one of the biggest of these steaming piles of crap was sat next to Sam, bearing into Dean with those disconcerting blue eyes. Dean let a sigh pass through his lips as he sat down.

“Going to ask Jess for a dance?” 

It was unusual for anything to fluster Sam, and Dean felt a stab of triumph when his baby brother shook his head with an annoyed look.

“Well if you’re not going to ask her than I will.” Dean gave Sam a second to reply, and when he didn’t he sauntered over to Jess, disregarding the livid hisses of ‘Dean’ that followed him. When he was in this kind of mood he couldn’t stop himself from baiting Sam. He made sure that his offer of a dance was complete with elaborate bows and hand kissing, and that Sam’s incensed expression was focused upon them.

He led her into the centre of the clearing, and they joined the big circle of people preparing for the next dance. He swung her round with his graceful moves. If there was one thing Dean could legitimately be cocky about it was his awesome dance skills. It helped that he and Jess got on well together, and he found it really easy to make her laugh. He waited until they danced close to where Sam was sat before pretending to trip up, making it a really obvious action. The more embarrassing this was for Sam, the better.

“Oh no, I’ve hurt my leg I can’t dance anymore.” Dean made a pretence of looking around the clearing. “Looks like Sam’ll have to take over.”

He raced over to Sam, pushing him onto his feet and ruffling his hair. He quickly shoved him towards Jess, loving Sam’s awkward response and glaring. Jess’ knowing eyebrow raise really added the cherry on top. Speaking of cherry, he’d have to see if Ellen happened to have any cherry pie hanging round. 

He turned away from Sam’s uncomfortable explanation, laughing as Jess dragged Sam back into the dance. His laughter showed him that this was the first time he’d felt comfortable in his own skin since the morning. And then he found those blue eyes boring into him again and he tensed right back up. 

Well screw this. There was a dance going on. Cassie would be around here somewhere, and if not there were always plenty of women waiting for the chance to dance with him (or at least that’s what he told himself). Bollocks to Castiel, and Krissy and Sam and everyone else. Dean was going to go have some fun. 

****

 

Everyone in the clearing had finished eating, and those who were not dancing seemed to have divided themselves into little groups. Castiel found himself surrounded by Kevin, Ash, Lily, Garth and Pamela. Dean’s earlier facetious matchmaking with Sam and Jess had yielded promising results. The star-crossed lovers were practically inseparable on the dancefloor, drinking each other in and giggling like little school girls at private jokes. 

Anna still seemed to be under Ellen’s watch, helping to clear up after the meal. The bundle of blankets on the log moved with Lily’s snores. Castiel sighed. Were it any other child he would have felt some compulsion to comfort her, but Lily never seemed to display any emotions or desire for such affection.

Pamela was sat with them, glaring daggers into the back of Garths head as he chuckled to himself. After watching Charlie playing her instrument he leant in towards Castiel to whisper in a mock confidential manner, “Told you she likes to get her harp out.” The confused look on Pamela’s face only increased Castiel’s amusement at such a crass joke.

There was a discussion occurring between Kevin and Ash over the weeks spoils. Kevin was insisting that the outlaws needed supplies, particularly as winter drew nearer, whilst Ash said that Dean had already promised the money to a woman named Cassie. Castiel’s perplexed expression earned him the explanation that Cassie ran some form of refuge within the forest, for women and children who could not look after themselves or contribute towards the Merry Men.

“But surely the proceeds of your ‘activities’ are divided between yourselves.” Castiel tried to inject as much venom as possible into his words.

“That’d be the day.” Ash huffed out a goodhearted laugh. “We get fed, and a small fee for services rendered. Dean makes sure the rest goes to those who need it. You know, the old chestnut of robbing the rich to give to the poor.”

“You know you wouldn’t have it any other way, you greedy lout.” Kevin accompanied this with a strong slap against Ash’s back, and the two of them started a rough tussle, throwing playful punches at each other.

Castiel sat in silence, contemplating the music and mulling over this new information in his head. Maybe he had been wrong about Dean. But that did not change the fact that Dean had slighted him, and worse, had insulted Anna. Angrily he threw a twig to the ground in anger, looking up to see a small form hunched over on a log. From her outfit he could tell it was Krissy, and her dejected outline encouraged him to go join her. She seemed to have an issue with Dean, maybe she would be able to help him vent some of his frustration.

She did not look up as Castiel positioned himself next to her and sat toeing the floor. Eventually he broke the heavy silence by saying “Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Castiel.”

This drew a snort out of Krissy and she grinned at him, cheeks damp with drying tears. “I know, you’re the one who pissed Dean off this morning.” She paused for a minute, and then continued eagerly. “How did you manage to get him so riled up? I can never get him anywhere near as angry as that.”

“Why would you want to make Dean angry?” The concept genuinely confused Castiel, since he had spent most of the day on the stressful receiving end.

“Because then maybe he’ll take me seriously for a change.” Krissy appeared to be serious, and her gloomy delivery took him back to his own youthful chasing of familial recognition and attention.

“I understand that this does not involve me, but if you desire my advice then I have some to offer.”

She looked at him from beneath hooded eyes. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Perhaps Dean might be responsive to a more…sophisticated…style of reasoning. I do not believe that your current method is gaining a particularly favourable reaction from him.”

For a minute it seemed that Krissy was going to argue with him. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. “So what do you suggest?”

“Well I would accommodate his wishes, for example following his orders and staying at home when he asks. Stop raising your issues with him in such a quarrelsome manner. Make him think that you are mature enough to be given the responsibility that you crave.”

The calm manner in which she took his words surprised Castiel. At her age he would have indiscriminately attacked anyone who presumed to give him such advice. Yet Krissy appeared to be taking it on board, and she mumbled a thanks as she rubbed her cheeks and walked off to presumably locate Dean.

****

 

Anna was boiling. Toiling next to the fire and washing pots had been strenuous work. Her arms ached and her fingers were rubbed down to a painful red colour. Next time she would probably take the quarterstaffs. Although kitchen work had had its redeeming features. There was something engrossing about such repetitive tasks. However, her throbbing muscles told her that she did not want to do such a task again anytime soon. Ellen seemed to have been pleased with her work, a singularly satisfying expression of gruff praise, but the suggestion that she should have helped out sooner chafed against her tender dignity.

As she neared the area where she had left Castiel, she saw him sat to one side, giving the ground a very dirty glare. Anna reached a hand over to rest on his shoulder hesitantly before swiftly drawing it away. They had never been ones to show their affection for each other. He let her draw him towards the rest of the group who had managed to drag a barrel over for what appeared to be their private party. Anna found herself enjoying the unlimited quantities of honeyed ale.

Garth was shouting loudly, much to the chagrin of the scowling woman sat next to him. “Did you see Dean earlier? It was just after he gave me that flagon of beer. Krissy was talking to the Potter’s boy, making eyes and all that. Well, you know his reputation. Dean marches over, grabs the boy by the collar and marches him off, tells him to go home or else. Doesn’t even say a word to Krissy, completely ignores her. Poor girl was in tears.”

“She seems to have cheered up now though.” Ash nodded as a young woman walked towards them in an efficient march.

The young woman, whom Anna took to be Krissy, spoke. “Have you seen Dean?” and Anna found herself about to reply when Kevin interrupted her by saying “Speak of the Devil.”

Dean moseyed his way upto them, his eyes fixed upon Castiel, whose black cloud only seemed to darken. Anna had no idea what was going on between those two, but it must be momentous to make Castiel brood. He was by nature a quiet soul, but he very rarely put out such gloomy vibes.

Dean’s eyes were drawn to Krissy as she spoke up, a genial smile on her face. “I’m sorry Dean.”

“So you should be! Wait, what for?” Dean’s confusion was laughable. Drunken lout.

“For challenging your authority, of course you were right. If I want to be a member of your gang then I have to do everything you say.” Something about the sickly tone to the girl’s voice made Anna squint her eyes in suspicion. She could remember herself as a teenager, and the way that her cordial smiles had often been a front for the things she was not supposed to be doing. Anna had had a talent for winding people around her little finger, although it had never seemed to work with her adopted father, or her two youngest brothers. 

“Oh so you’re going to do what I say now? Just like that?” Dean seemed to have his own suspicions and spoke with a guarded tone.

“Yep.” There was that supercilious smile again.

“Fine…” Anna watched the outlaw frowning, his brain trying to kickstart through a boozy haze. What a class act. He eventually seemed to come to a decision. “I order you to go home, and take that sleeping girl with you and look after her. I want to see both of you in one piece bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That absurd look of shock on Dean’s face was pretty amusing, and Anna couldn’t help a small chuckle slipping out of her mouth as the young woman said “okay” again and woke Lily up to walk her off into the forest. Dean’s foolish bearing could easily have been mistaken for that of the village idiot’s as he stared after her with his mouth hanging open.

“Guess Castiel’s a magic worker.” Kevin laughed as Dean sat down heavily next to him.

“Why, what’d he do?”

“He had a chat with Krissy, that’s the only reason I can see for her coming round.” Anna noticed the quick glance Dean gave Castiel before shrugging and taking a sip of his beer. Castiel still had not raised his eyes from the floor. She was far too tired for this mess. 

Garth had embarked upon a story about how he had shot an arrow through a bishop’s hat once, breaking off every couple of minutes to chuckle at his own drunken witticisms. The ale was beginning to float towards Anna’s head as she relaxed into her seat. Her cool was interrupted by the arrival of Jo, who handed a pile of green cloth to Dean and had hurried off, only raising her face to direct a murderous glare at an unconcerned Castiel.

There was a growing ache in her head, and all Anna’s muscles were screaming for silky sheets and a soft pillow. It was only after the groan had hit the air that she realised she had done so. Dean turned his stance in her direction.

“Dancing. So, what’d ya say. Me and you strutting our stuff?” Dean supplemented this ever-so-elegant proposition with what was obviously meant to be a winning smile. Anna directed every ounce of disdain possessed by her body into her glare. It took a lot more than a leer to get her to dance with someone so uncouth. She was also rattled by the way he kept peeking at Castiel with cheeky smiles as if to gauge his reaction. The outlaw could just go…do ungentlemanly acts to himself. 

There was no way she was going to dance with a graceless man who she had watched standing on the toes of countless other women throughout the night. Yet, there had not seemed to be so much toe stepping. He had seemed to know his way around the dancefloor. But no, Anna was not going to give into the drunkard.

And then he hissed the one thing that could convince her to stiffen her back and accept his meaty hand. “Scared? Go on, I dare you.”

Anna felt herself giving in as Dean swept her up onto her feet and immediately twirled her off into the centre of the fray. As she stepped in to join the formation made by the other dancers she felt a muscular arm grasp round her waist and swing her in the other direction. The unexpected movement combined with her earlier attitude of reckless abandon concerning the alcohol sent her off kilter. Her shaky feet wouldn’t go where she ordered them to, and she quickly found herself tumbling down towards the ground. Well that was going to humiliating.

Fortunately, her balance was retrieved after Dean’s hands wrapped around her back and shifted her away from the ground and towards himself. He really was not a bad dancer. The long glance shared between them was almost cliché, but before she had chance to run her fingers down his cheek Dean had whirled her out of the dip. He seemed to realise her need for a more tame dance as he shifted his posture into a more solid frame and started to lead her through a simple and yet fluid series of moves. He seemed completely oblivious to the rest of boisterous dance routine being played out around them.

This wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the first few spins, but Anna soon fell into the easy familiar rhythm of the steps. This was the first dance that she had ever learnt, and the memory made her smile. Dean responded unconsciously to her grin. The little tip of tongue sneaking between his soft lips told her that all of his concentration was focused upon his feet.

It was weird to think back to that first dance. Red faced and giggly, stomping all over her poor partner’s toes. At the time she’d had no interest in learning, would much rather have been trailing round after Castiel and Gabriel even if that normally wound up with her in tears. The tears never stopped her returning another round of abuse. Her parents and older brothers had never even thought to intervene, and she had found it funny that the one person who showed any interest had been the dancing partner whom she had been so desperate to get away from.

Those green eyes and soft lips, the way he had been able to draw out laughs from behind the sobs. He had been a ward of her father’s for three short, wonderful months. And for those three months he had been her everything. Her first true friend, her first love and, of course, her first heartbreak. The years had dulled his features, and Anna could barely even remember the colour of his hair. And yet under the moonlit trees, dancing with Dean she felt as if she could almost touch him. Wait a minute. Dean. Dean.

He seemed to notice that she had stiffened, and a frown graced his brow as she leaned forwards to take in his sharp features. Soft hair, green eyes, delicate lips and kissable cheekbones. Shrink them down and take away the throws of manhood, and it became crystal clear. How had she missed it before! And it was so obvious. She thought of how he’d instantly identified her by name.

“Dean! As in Dean.” He shifted uncomfortably under her accusation. “After all these years.”

His sheepish grin was not helping Anna to modify the violence apparent in her voice, and around them people were stopping dancing and turning to stare. “This is where you’ve been. This is what you left me for?” 

Dean’s loss for words was the final straw. The fury channelled itself into her hand as she swung it into his face with a satisfying smack. Immediately she found herself fending off countless outlaws as they all rushed in to protect their leader, leaving the area in chaos.

The countless hands pinning her to the ground were only removed at a shout from their leader. “STOP. Let her up.” And the whole world shifted as she struggled to stand through her beer-haze. She fixed Dean with an accusatory glare for a long moment. Before any of the surrounding outlaws could stop her, she had turned and dashed towards the forest, breaking through the undergrowth, staggering from side to side.

****

 

Castiel finally managed to break away from the hold that Kevin and Ash had him under. It had been a few minutes since Anna had blundered into the forest, followed by Charlie. There was absolutely no way Castiel was going to be able to find her now, even if he did manage to wander off.  
He and Anna may not have been the closest of siblings, but be damned if he let a lowly thief get away with making her cry. Storming over to Dean, Castiel grasped him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the tree. Hard. He felt a brief sense of satisfaction when he noticed the angry handprint standing out on Dean’s cheek.

“Whatever you did to Anna, you’re going to pay for it.” The sincere growl caught deep in Castiel’s throat. He slammed Dean against the tree again. Vaguely he wondered why no one had attempted to stop him yet, but realised that Dean had been signalling them to stay back. Another wave of anger coursed through him, earning Dean another slam. What right did he have to remain so in control when he had made Anna cry.

Castiel considered punching him, smashing his face with his fist, but decided that the red hand print was enough. For now.

He released Dean, noticing that there were creases on the shirt from where he had grabbed him. And tried to make his words as clearly enunciated as possible as his eyes bored into Dean’s. “What. Did. You. Do.” 

Dean looked to be weighing up whether to answer or not, before he grabbed Castiel’s arm and dragged him to a log on the outskirts of the clearing. Castiel was not going to notice his own pleased response to that gentle touch on his arm.

“I didn’t do nothing. Or at least not in the last fourteen years.”

Castiel’s expression obviously encouraged him to elaborate, because he continued after a quick breath. “When I was thirteen, I was sent to live with Anna’s father. Well foster father. I was only there for three months. I was mostly kept away from the family. Although I was a guest, I came from a ‘lowly’ yeoman background and Anna’s dad was just doing a favour for mine. I had been thrown together with Anna as her dance partner, and we really hit it off.

“You see, she had a horrible pair of brothers. I never actually met them, but every time Anna was around them she’d come over to me in tears. One time, the youngest brother had cut a chunk out of her hair and her father had taken a belt to her when she had refused to tell him how it happened.” Dean’s hand tensed into a fist at the memory. “That whole family was made up of bastards, baring Anna.”

Castiel found himself leaning away from his close proximity to Dean’s warm shoulders. He hadn’t really drunk much tonight, but the words coming from Dean seemed to be making him woozy. Daggers of guilt slid down to his stomach. He had never heard the entirety of this story. Just mulling it over, he could feel his own fingers curl into a fist although he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hurt himself or his father more.

Dean leaned forward to rub his forehead through his hands, and Castiel had to restrain the impulse to run his fingers through that thick head of hair. After a second Dean continued. “But this time she came to me crying and being a teenage boy I did the only thing I could think of to comfort her, I kissed her. The next few weeks passed into a blur, with us both sneaking around together.”

Castiel could feel Deans eyes upon him and a quick glance showed him that he was biting his lip. Dean’s voice broke a little as he spoke again. “You’re not angry, are you Cas? I was just a kid.”

“I probably should be, but I find it hard to harbour such resentment towards the actions of a thirteen year old.”

The obvious relief on Dean’s face made Castiel smile, even through his guilt. The outlaw continued to vent. “Eventually I think someone caught on. I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle. The next thing I knew my bags were packed and I was on my way back home. My dad never forgave me, he said that I had ruined everything.

“You know there’s nothing going on between us, right? I got over her years ago.”

There was an earnest tilt to Dean’s body. The supple feel of his hand on Castiel’s thigh was almost enough to stop the angry shake that had taken over him since the mention of the time when he had cut Anna’s hair.

Castiel realised that his whole body was infused with tension. His weak attempt to relax seemed to do little to reduce Dean’s worry. If only Dean knew who that anger was directed towards.

“I need to go, Dean.” He followed up his stoic response by shaking the hand from his thigh and entering the blackness of the forest, roughly in the direction Anna and Charlie had taken. The sounds of revelry and dancing petered off as he was swallowed up by the night.

High pitch hoots rebounded from the treetops, punctuating the rustle that was made by Castiel’s footprints. Each step he took carried him further into the cold night. He rustled a few steps further forward. Surely Anna and Charlie had to be around here somewhere. Yet the murky shadows had little to offer him. His first attempt at calling out was barely more than a whisper “Anna, Charlie.”

Castiel’s back suddenly felt exceedingly exposed and he swung round, losing his balance and crashing into some bushes. He scrambled back onto his feet with manic movements. This time when he shouted it was much louder and held a note of panic. “Anna! Charlie!”

A loud crackle pierced the air. It was coming from a bush just to his right. Somewhere between his spine and his stomach a tense knot of fear was building. Slowly he started to move his feet away from the crackling. The sharp snap of a twig startled him enough to make him bolt.

He had no idea which direction he was going in. He just had to get away from whatever was making that noise. His feet pounded against the rough soil, tripping every so often against gnarly tree roots. Some deep indistinguishable calls chased him through the darkness. He ran. And ran. And ran.

Eventually his brain managed to take over from his body and he finally realised that he could just as easily be running towards danger as away from it. Not to mention the fact that now he really had no idea where he was.

The bush right behind him rustled again, freezing the blood in Castiel’s veins. The rustling got louder, echoing off the trees around him. Every muscle in his body was preparing to flee. A twig cracked, this time towards his left side. He flicked his eyes towards the sound. 

Castiel could barely make out even the shape of the trees in the gloom. A dark shape emerged out of the blackness, slipping through the blackness towards him. The creature barely made a sound, except for the odd moment where it upset the peace of a bush or a twig. It was the size of a man, an exceedingly large man in fact. It moved closer. Slowly, slowly closer. Until its hideous form stepped into a shaft of moonlight and revealed its face. A monstrous concoction of…

“Dean.” Castiel had never uttered a word with such a breath of relief.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let my prisoner walk off into the forest on his own did you?” Even out of breath and only lit by moonlight, Dean’s smile was radiant. “Just for the record, I always say you should never run unless something’s chasing you.”

Dean’s grin quickly faltered and he self-consciously rubbed his neck. Castiel remembered the hostility between him and Dean that had been forgotten in his self-hatred and terrifying race through the forest. In light of what he had just realised he had done to Anna, an argument with the outlaw just didn’t seem worth it.

“Look, Dean, I wanted to express regret for my earlier actions. I should not have taken such offence. Your reaction to Anna was completely understandable, considering your past history. I was also unaware of the altruistic nature of your band. Obviously my temper was a little too quick.” Dean was actually squirming as Castiel made his solemn apology. “And as far as I’m concerned, your and Anna’s relationship is in the past.”

“I’m sorry too, Cas, now no more chick flick moments. We should get you back to the campfire. Unless you want to go straight to bed?” Cas tried to ignore the discernable undertone that Dean laced the question with. He was also avoiding smiling at the new nickname he seemed to have gained.

“Actually I was attempting to locate Anna.”

“Well can you see her?”

“No. I cannot see her.” Cas tried to express his puzzlement through his eyes, yet his response only earned a quick head shake and eyeroll from Dean.

“Why don’t I take you to Charlie’s treehouse? She’s probably there.” Dean seemed to have caught his breath back, and he covered Cas’ shaking hand with his own knobbly fingers. They took a steady pace, with Cas finding that he needed to place his other hand on Dean’s back in order to keep his balance among the tree roots. The fact that the other man didn’t shake off this touch sent a small thrill to his chest. Which was stupid because he’d spent the entire night watching Dean dance with girl after girl, and now he knew that the outlaw had also had relations with Cas’ sister. But he couldn’t deny that the robust feel of Dean’s muscles beneath his hand did make him feel so much more secure.

They trailed through the dusk, making relatively little noise. If you paid enough attention, the owls’ hoots were actually kind of musical. Cas even started to whistle along until he noticed Dean looking back at him.

****


	4. A Guest of Dean Hood: Part 4

Cas’ hand was exceptionally silky and Dean couldn’t help but give it a reassuring stroke every so often. It seemed to be working since the shaking had stopped. The odd fresh scratch made the hands even more appealing, as they proved that Cas had been in Dean’s forest, using his hands to make Dean’s weapons. 

He stopped underneath a particularly winding and branchy tree, having to let go of Cas’ hand and lose the warmth from his back. He lobbed a handful of stones up at the almost indecipherable house hidden in the branches. Some of them clattered through the window and were followed by a series of ‘Ouch’s.

Dean found great amusement in Cas’ unimpressed countenance. “What, my mother taught me never to enter a lady’s boudoir without knocking first. Even if the lady in question lady isn’t all that ladylike.”

“Hey, I heard that.” A hail of stones punctuated her words. Sonofabitch, why was it always his head that got targeted.

Cas merely raised an eyebrow as Dean knelt on the slightly damp ground and waved his arms dramatically above his head and grasped them over his heart. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.” This time the volley of stones was accompanied by a shoe.

“I think you’ll find that we’re not talking to you.”

“But fair maiden, this is a quest for true love. On this stormy night…”

“It’s a clear sky.” Charlie was distinctly unimpressed.

“On this, the brightest of nights a valiant young Lord searches through the forest for his long lost fiancé. Battling though adversity and hardship he finally arrives at his beloved’s prison, only to discover that the keep is guarded by a fearsome dragon.” Another shoe rained down from the sky.

“Sorry, a fearsome, beautiful, extremely ladylike dragon.” Dean amended quickly before she could throw something heavier down.

“That’s better.”

“Oh fiery dragon how can you deny the power true love.”

“Look Dean you’re very funny and all that, but Anna doesn’t want to see you.”

God, Charlie was infuriating sometimes. “Well I think you’ll find that this is my forest and she’s my prisoner, and if I want to come up there, I will. Ladder or no ladder.”

“Like hell you will, you can’t even climb and you’re terrified of heights.”

“Anna it’s me, I’m coming up.” Cas’ rough voice rang out, as he took a few steps back and made a running leap upto the tree and swung up off a branch. Dean admiringly watched him navigate the branches in an almost feline manner before reaching upto the door and rattling his fists upon it. 

Charlie hadn’t been lying when she said that Dean didn’t climb trees. He’d never had any desire to remove his feet from the ground. There was a reason he slept in a cave whilst everyone else had treehouses. He guessed it was quite an ironic situation for the leader of an outlaw gang situated in the forest. Occasionally he would scramble up a low hanging tree, but it was very rarely more than a few feet. Besides, his physical attributes were much more geared towards normal sturdy ground fighting rather than practicing athletics and flitting about in trees in trees. Cas, on the other hand, was a born natural and Dean would be lying if he said that he could not appreciate the way his lithe muscles rippled as he slinked his way up the tree.

Dean waited as Cas was let inside. After a few minutes he stared to rub his hands and stomp his feet in order to stop the dew and the cold getting under his skin. Eventually the door opened again, and Charlie dropped a ladder down before scuttling down to join him. She silently glared at him.

“Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I probably didn’t do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

Luckily for him Charlie could never be silent for more than a few seconds. “So you didn’t disappear on her after promising the world.”

“Not exactly.”

“Well what happened then?”

At that moment the shutters on the tree house swung open in the wind, and the conversation between Anna and Cas filtered down.

Cas’ low voice was easily discernable in its grave quality. “I need to say this, Anna. It’s something for which I have never made reparations. I was horrible to you when we were growing up. In fact it was inexcusable. You’re my sister and I should have been caring for you, not making your every living moment hell. You never told me what happened to you after I cut your hair.”

“He told you about that? That bastard actually…” The outrage in Anna’s voice made Charlie start and she directed an anxious frown to Dean.

“We shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” Charlie muttered.

“Well go stand over there where you can’t hear then.” Although it wasn’t meant for Dean’s ears the conversation had spiked his curiosity, and damned if he was going to let Charlie interrupt. Besides, Charlie was a sucker for gossip and drama, and he could almost see the moment when her metaphorical demon won out over her angel. She merely blushed and shook her head.

Cas was still speaking in a measured tone. “You should hear Dean out, let him explain. It didn’t happen in the manner you believe.” A very unladylike noise came from Anna, and she followed it with a couple of choice cuss words.

“Just please listen, Anna. What I did that day was one of the worst things I’ve ever done to you. Just by itself, cutting your hair was inexcusably cruel. But you know how I always followed through with Gabriel’s dares. If I’d have known what father did to you after that, I’d have beaten him bloody. Gabriel would have too for that matter.”

Anna voice was definitely dripping with bitterness. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve called him father. And what’s the point of rehashing the past. I forgot about that incident ages ago.”

“Because I was just reminded of it and I felt the need to ask for your forgiveness.”

“Fine, I f…”

“Wait, I haven’t finished. I know the many injuries I did to you have been left in the past and I am unspeakably grateful for your forgiving nature.” Cas’ voice cracked. “Yet there was something else that I did that I fear is much worse and needs to be addressed. Believe me when I say, I hadn’t realised the momentous consequences of my actions until this very night. You shouldn’t blame Dean for what happened. Back when you and Dean were *cough* friendly, Gabriel and I saw you kissing some boy behind a curtain. Gabriel dared me, in his normal manner, to make sure that you were discovered in a compromising situation by our father. And so one day I dragged father from his study for a ‘walk’ in the garden.”

“You didn’t!” Dean had to wince at Anna’s pleading.

“The only thing I can say in my defence is that I hadn’t realised what that meant for you, or the extent of your attachment. It was only after that I realised my mistake that I….”

A sound of something heavy being slammed against wood drifted down from the treehouse. “When father found out he banished me to my room for a month. For a month. He stopped my archery lessons and confiscated all my books. He’d been waiting for a chance to break me, to turn me into the perfect daughter. I had nothing and no-one. I was completely alone. Do you know what that does to a thirteen year old?

“And the worst part; he said that it had been Dean who had chosen to leave. Who had realised what a foolish mistake he had made and was owning up to his indiscretions before he returned home to forget about me and go live his life. That one bit of happiness I had ever been able to call my own, and I thought that he left me by his own volition.” Anna’s voice was reaching an incredibly shrill pitch. “Except that he didn’t. You and Gabriel and father were the ones who made him leave. 

The only consolation I had was that you were being nice to me for the first time, and even Gabriel had become tolerable. I thought it was due to the new and improved ladylike me, but even that was just because you were feeling guilty.”

“I’m sorry Anna.”

“Just get out!”

There was the unmistakable creek of a door being opened and someone climbing down a rope ladder. Dean and Charlie looked guiltily at each other, before Dean half-heartedly attempted to appear as if they had been engrossed in conversation. He gave up as Cas stepped past them, ignoring their presence. His whole demeanour was dejected, from his hunched posture to his shuffling walk. 

“I’ll take care of Anna.” Charlie assured Dean as he followed Cas into the forest.

“Wait, Cas.” Dean didn’t know how he could comfort Cas without revealing that he had listened in on his conversation. The other man merely looked at Dean’s hand on his shoulder with a neutral expression and muttered “Can we just go to bed now.”

Dean just nodded, and a little later found himself stroking the poor guy’s hair as he sobbed himself to sleep in the pitch black of the cave.

****

 

Cas was woken by a nearby rustling. Blearily he opened his eyes, trying to make sense of the leaves and rock face. There was a soft pressure against his back and a careless arm draped over his naked stomach. A very manly arm, complete with broad scarred hands. Of course, Dean. A smile ghosted over Cas’ lips, until the previous night’s activities washed over him and he groaned instead. He settled back against his squidgy backrest. If he was lucky, Dean would let him hide out here for most of the morning.

He almost shot out of his skin as a blonde head popped up in the cave entrance. Cas instantly felt Jo drop her jovial demeanour as she caught sight of him. He groaned again. Nothing like waking up to jealous glares in the morning. Despite her frown, she completely ignored him and turned her attention towards the slightly snoring mound behind him.

Cas sat up and watched as Jo marched over and gave Dean a solid kick in his side. The ensuing slurred “what” and flailing around from Dean was rather adorable, if slightly comical.

“Morning princess.” She gave Dean the full force of the smile that she had withheld from Cas.

“Jo, what do you want.” His speech was clouded by sleep and punctuated by yawns. It also sounded little short of downright grumpy.

“Bobby told me to come get you, he says there’s something you need to look at.”

“How did you know where my cave was?”

“You showed me a few weeks back. Remember that night you bet Charlie you could beat her in a drinking contest.” When Dean shook his head her grin widened. “I helped you back here, and you left a very pretty trail of vomit behind you.” Dean just moaned and closed his eyes at her words.

“I know you’ve got a cosy set up here.” She raised her eyebrows at Cas, still radiating hostility. Cas was surprised to see Dean shifting and coughing uncomfortably at this. “But this is important.”

There was a drained quality to Dean’s nod. “Okay, wait for us outside.”

“Fine, but no hanky panky!”

Cas cocked his head to one side, trying to figure out Jo’s meaning. “Dean and I, we do not share such a carnal relationship.” Jo’s grin quickly transformed into a sneer as she studied his face.

Dean’s awkward back-of-the-throat cough came again. “I think she was just trying to wind us up Cas.”

“Oh.” Well Cas guessed that that made sense.

Jo levelled more hatred towards Cas before leaving the cave. Cas pulled his tunic on, giving Dean a grateful smile when he helped it in the position where it got stuck on his head. It didn’t take long for Dean to get his boots on and they had joined Jo within a couple of minutes.

The journey to the clearing was a speedy affair. Cas trailed behind the other two as they mocked each other and Jo filled Dean in on the shenanigans from the night before. Apparently Sam and Jess had spent the entire night dancing in each other’s arms. Kevin had had a less happy end to the evening as he had thrown up in the fire and was dragged off by his mother who had him by the ear.

Generally, Cas disregarded their conversation and focused upon the twinkling music of birdsong and the way the branches danced along in the breeze. It was looking like it was going to be a very pleasant day, excepting the situation with Anna. Despite the impersonal shade to their relationship, they had always shared a basic but firm level of affection. They had not even had a serious fight since they were in their early teens. 

Cas could still feel the slightly salty deposits left on his cheeks from the previous night’s release of guilt. He had long past given up on the idea that anyone was capable of eliciting such emotions from himself. And yet here he was, feeling like someone had wrenched out his insides with a poker. How was it possible to feel so mortified? The longer he dwelled upon Anna, the more his thoughts became poisoned by a self-righteous backlash. Self-preserving anger bubbled up inside him, refusing to let him wallow in his guilt. How dare his sister make him feel this exposed and defenceless?

As they reached the clearing, Cas was surprised to see it was aflutter with activity. People were rushing back and forth, passing weapons to each other. Cas’ stomach dropped when he realised that the fire pit was cold and dark, and that breakfast didn’t appear to be materialising. 

Bobby marched straight up to them, a frown gracing his rough face. “Sheriff Crowley’s at the outskirts of the forest. His guard must be a hundred strong.”

“What does he want?” Dean’s voice held a note of urgency.

“I’m gonna go ahead and guess that it isn’t some of my famous prime venison steak. He’s obviously after our ‘guests’ you idjit.”

“Shit.” Cas couldn’t help staring at the unflattering way Dean’s full lips fell open. 

“So you gonna get off your ass and do something or are you just gonna stand there staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head?”

Dean visibly shook himself. “Errm yeah. How much manpower do we have?”

“With enough time, there might be fifty of us within calling distance.”

“Nowhere near enough. Can you get everyone together, and clean up the clearing. I also need Charlie and Krissy to bring our other ‘guests’ here. I’m gonna go have a chat with Cas.”

Bobby rolled his eyes, and made his grumbling way across to the fire, almost magically making some brooms appear and thrusting them into the hands of some unsuspecting outlaws. Cas felt a faint pressure on the small of his back, and realised that Dean was guiding him towards the tree line. It seemed as if the day had taken a disastrous turn.

****

 

Dean carefully pushed Cas until they were out of earshot of the rest of the clearing. Clearing his throat he got straight down to it. “Right Cas, I guess the sheriff’s after you.”

“I think that that would be a safe assumption.” Cas’ impassive countenance was infuriating. Particularly after the time they had spent together last night. He had stroked the guy’s head in a very unmanly fashion whilst he had bawled like a whingey baby for Christ’s sake. From what he had seen of Cas in the past few days, Dean figured that he was not used to feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of other people. Well so what, neither was Dean and he’d still got all touchy feely. Well if Cas didn’t seem inclined to discuss it then that was just fine by Dean. He had bigger fish to fry anyway.

“Well judging by our numbers, there’s no way we can face him head on. The easiest option would be to just leave you somewhere he can find you. But see, it aint that easy. You guys have learnt things about us in the past couple of days that could be an inconvenience. You know, if you open your traps.” Cas nodded his assent. “I need your word that you and your sister won’t put us at an inconvenience.”

“Of course, Dean. We may not see completely eye to eye, but from what I have ascertained of you and your men, I feel no compulsion to disrupt your lives here in the forest. Particularly with the comradery that has bloomed between Anna and Charlie.”

“Speaking of, Charlie needs to return home soon, and her mother may fret if she returns sans escort. The old lady’s rather a handful, and I don’t want her to stop Charlie from coming back to us. She’s just been looking for an excuse to ship her off to some wealthy land owner down South.” There was no way Dean could hold back a small smile at the thought of some rich Southerner having to deal with Charlie.

“Charlie is a local noblewoman?” There was that aggravating head tilt that Cas was so fond of doing. Not that Dean had noticed.

“Our very own lady. She’s currently ‘visiting a monastery’, and praying for her virtue, or a wealthy husband, or whatever delicate young flowers spend their time thinking of, and her mother’s expecting her back anytime now. So if we leave her with you, could I count on you to have her back?”

“You may of course rely upon my discretion, I hold a lot of respect for your newest archer.” Even this amicable statement seemed devoid of any sentimentality. Where was the vulnerable guy from the previous night?

“She won’t shut up about it huh?” Dean’s lips parted in a wryly smile. “If you’re not careful soon she’ll have converted your sister to a life of degradation and hardship under the greenwood trees.”

“My sister?” Cas gave Dean a contemplative gaze, and even behind his impassive front Dean thought he could sense a touch of regret, or apology and maybe even fear. “How long have you known?”

Dean’s had to break the gaze as it became overly intense. “Since last night. We may have accidentally overheard parts of your conversation.”

“So you have gathered that not only Anna, but myself as well, can claim blood ties to the King.” At least Cas’ empty tone meant that he couldn’t be too upset over the eavesdropping.

“And Prince Lucifer, and I’m assuming Lord Gabriel?”

“Yes, but we are merely their bastard siblings. Not much of a catch for the famous Robin Hood I’m afraid.” There was definitely a taste of bitterness to that comment.

Dean decided to ignore whatever that sourness seemed to imply and instead affably clapped his hand to Cas’ sturdy back. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m getting rid of you then. If you see Gabe, tell him that he might want to start paying his minions better wages. His last lot of stripper-assassins are an invaluable addition to my payroll.”

Cas appeared utterly confused by that, so Dean merely flashed him a flirty grin. It was probably better if he didn’t give Gabriel the challenge, the last thing he needed was for the trickster to rise to the bait.

Now that he had sorted out his plan of action, Dean started to shift around under Cas’ unrelenting stare. He shouldn’t let the guy leave without mentioning last night. But he was a nobleman from another world, chances were he’d never even see him again, or that he would rat them out at the first chance he’d get. He even knew the route to Dean’s cave since they hadn’t bothered with a blindfold that morning. The sensible thing would be to threaten him, or just straight out kill him. Dean realised with sigh that he wouldn’t be able to do either. And just in case they did meet again, it was probably best to make sure that it wouldn’t be awkward. Plus, the current burst of interest behind Cas’ eyes was certainly encouraging. A gruff cough escaped Dean’s lips, fortifying him as he prepared to speak.

“Listen Cas, about last night…..”

Of course that would be the point they would be interrupted by Anna strolling up. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with the effort of denying her brother’s existence. And Dean couldn’t help wincing at the anguish that was immediately all too visible on Cas’ hurt face. Anna completely blanked him, which personally Dean thought was way too cold. She instead focused her attention towards Dean, bursting straight into speech.

“Ellen says you’re wanted back at base, and I was wondering if I could have a word.” Dean sent a pitying look to Cas, who seemed to be studying a tree root with immense concentration. He struggled to keep his voice neutral before he answered “Yeah, sure.”

Since when did he feel such a strong need to protect anyone from the deserved anger of their sibling? Although, Anna did seem to be taking the self-righteous angle to a whole new level. Then again, what did Dean know, he obviously didn’t know the full implications of the situation even with his role in it.

His anger flared up again as Anna raised her nose in a decidedly haughty gesture and replied. “Alone.” Cas took the steely order on board, quickly stumbling off with his back hunched under a world of worries. Dean allowed himself a small glower at Anna. “What is it?”

Suddenly Anna seemed to shrink in on herself, looking much younger once she no longer had her wrath to infuse her pride. She hesitated before she articulated her reason for searching him out. “I wanted to apologise. For the way I acted towards you, for hating you all these years. It turns out it was…someone else…who was to blame.”

“Don’t mention it, water under the bridge. But you know you should really give Cas a break.”

Some of her earlier indignation returned, and he could almost see the spark jump to her eye as she stomped her foot. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Dean. He completely betrayed me.”

“Not to sound like a douchebag or anything, but we were only together for a few weeks, surely you got over me.” That was about as comforting as Dean got, and he very rarely tried to get in the middle of sibling disputes, particularly if it was his own.

“You just don’t get it. It’s not about you; it’s about me and who I was. Sure I had this idealised version of you which would have fallen apart eventually and father would have found out sooner or later. The point is that the timing of it completely broke me. I was only just beginning to realise the benefits of chasing my own happiness before you tore it away from me. Not you, but you know what I mean. That was the last time I ever went against what I thought my adopted father wanted. I lost the hope of getting anything better. And out of all my brothers, Castiel was my closest friend, the only one who could offer a little protection from the others. And now it turns out he treated me worse than all the deliberately cruel actions of my other brothers combined.”

It was true, he didn’t get it, but then he never would. Dean still felt the shadow of his own father ghosting over his every move, but if there was something he really wanted he had always gone for it no matter what his father’s reaction would be. And at least he’d had the option to leave, which as far as he could understand was completely denied to the bastard daughter of a king. Hopefully she’d eventually realise that Cas was worth forgiving, but he doubted that would be any time soon. 

At least she wasn’t crying any more, he guessed that Anna must have spent all her tears last night. Fortunately Dean was much better equipped to deal with the hotly burning rage. He merely shrugged and tried to end the conversation.

“Okay, well I guess that’s between you and Cas. Is our talk over, can I go back to the clearing and make sure my men aint gonna be slaughtered now?” Dean attempted to shepherd her back towards the clearing.

“Wait, you know that we’re not engaged?” It was amusing to watch her face pale as she eventually realised her slip up. Dean just nodded. Much safer to lead her back onto familiar territory.

“So the plan is that we’re going to truss you guys up for Crowley to ‘rescue’ and get as far out of dodge as possible. But for that to work, you’re gonna have to not spill any beans alright?”

“Of course not!” The offended tone of her voice assuaged his worry somewhat.

Within a couple of minutes they broke through the trees to see a substantial collection of people gathered in the middle. Cas seemed to have changed back into his now ratty travelling clothes, and Dean could see Lily standing nearby. Dean speedily and efficiently communicated his plan of action, telling his men to scatter for a couple of days before regrouping at another clearing. Thank god they had numerous collection points in place for situations just like this. They’d been at this clearing for too long anyway, it was time to move on. 

His men dispersed with little fuss, an unusually sombre timber to the calls of ‘see ya later’. He was pleased to see Bobby had done a good job with the clearing. You could still tell people had been using it, but there seemed to be no tell-tales that could unwittingly betray a secret, such as the location of their stores or even the number of people that had been using it.

The clearing picked up a morbid feeling as the people moved on, leaving only the bare roots of trees and logs to stick out almost like bones, and a heavy silence fell dampening even the sunlight.

Charlie was still hovering around but everyone else except for their three ‘guests’ disappeared. Krissy had hung around long enough but had soon scampered off, glowing under his brisk ‘well done’. Even Ellen and Bobby had made their slightly slower way to their respective homes. The message would get passed on, even to the vast members of his band who wouldn’t arrive until the full dawning of summer.

Dean gave Cas, Anna, Lily and Charlie a big smile before telling them to sit on a log with their back against one of the others. Anna immediately pushed Cas out of the way to grab for Charlie and so Cas was left with Lily’s disconcerting stare. Slowly, Dean started tying up Anna and Charlie, trying to provide enough give whilst making them look realistic. His task was made more difficult by the annoyance of the folds of fabric wafting down from each woman’s newly replaced wimple. Dean was just about finished weaving ropes around Charlie and Anna, when a gross retching noise permeated the clearing from just beyond the trees.

The string of accompanying cussing showed that the retching noise was apparently from a rather-worse-for-wear Garth. Dean peered through tree branches to view the sorry sight of Garth vomiting up a pungent mess, all by himself. Well, looked like Pamela had finally given up on him. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose Dean half-heartedly tried to give Garth a bit of encouragement. “Just breath Garth, work it out.”

When that had little effect he told Garth to get it out of his system and get away before the sheriff arrived. He broke back through the trees and finished fastening Anna and Charlie together. He’d even tied their hands in front of them, and their feet. He’d been tempted to gag them, but as satisfying as that would be he was stopped by the thought of the level of payback he wold receive from Charlie.

Then he moved onto Lily and Cas. And if he spent longer wrapping the cords around Cas’ soft nimble fingers than he had on the others then none of them mentioned it. Lily was eerily silent, but moved agreeably to accommodate his knot-tying. As he completed the last knot, he realised that the little group had been sat in a very oppressive silence since he had begun tying them up.

Dean was just about to break it when Garth approached them, giving each of the four captives an affectionate hug before turning to Dean. His protestations were smothered as Garth grabbed him in a suffocating bear hug, which he possibly returned just a little. It was nice sometimes to receive such an easy token of friendship, even if he wouldn’t let Garth know that. The skinny man beamed at him before wandering off into the undergrowth, far too happy for someone who was nursing a hangover. 

Dean decided that that signalled that it was his turn to make himself sparse.

“Well that’s it guys, have a safe trip. You know where we are if you need to find us. Charlie, I expect you back a.s.a.p.” Charlie’s retuning smile was warm enough to blow away the growing dispiriting feeling spreading from his stomach.

“You can tell them that your horses and guardsmen are a few minutes in that direction.” He gestured roughly in the right area. “It shouldn’t take too long to find them.”

Dean finally allowed himself to turn his attention completely towards Cas. They hadn’t managed to have their talk, but at least Cas still seemed friendly if a little aloof. “So I guess this is goodbye.”

Cas gave him a calculating look as he answered in his gritty voice, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine. “Goodbye Dean.”

Dean’s feet definitely felt heavy as he manoeuvred himself towards the trees. He kept walking, but decreased his pace as a thought entered his head and he turned towards Cas.

“Wait, you never told me what you were doing in Nottingham.” Dean called back from the edge of the clearing. 

“I am getting married there.”

To do himself credit he didn’t pause as he took in that piece of information. Not that he should have any reason to pause. 

Dean climbed a few branches up a nearby tree without snapping a single one and gained a decent view of the surrounding area. From here he could keep an eye on the captives until they were discovered. It proved to also be angled perfectly so he could watch Cas and admire his dark perfectly messy hair (adorned with more than the odd twig by now). 

It didn’t take long for Crowley’s men to find them. Of course he hadn’t come himself, entering the forest was far below the leech. But Crowley’s men eventually (and with a lot of struggle, Dean was smug to note) managed to work loose the knots around their captives and led them off towards where the horses and guardsmen were stashed. Dean had an even better view of that. This proved to be particularly gratifying when he saw the almost imperceptible flash of befuddlement upon Cas’ face when he realised that their saddle bags were still full and that his expensive sword had not been ‘liberated’.

Anna pointedly refused Cas’ proffered hand, as she swung herself up into her saddle and bought her foot to slam in his face. Dean almost felt the impact of that blow it was so forceful. Soon the whole party was drifting back out of sight. He watched as Cas hung back and took one last glance, which he could almost imagine to be wistful, before trotting off back to civilisation.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of bringing Meg into the next chapter in a major way, but it probably wont be for a couple of weeks


	5. Dean Hood and the Potter: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is loosely based on the rhyme 'Robin Hood and the Potter' (c. 1500). The Sheriff's wife is so sassy (and practically the only female in the entirety of the early Robin Hood stories), it didn't feel right for her to be anyone other than Meg. And just ignore the fact that they almost certainly wouldn't have access to cocoa powder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected, and I'm still not happy with it, but ah well thems the chips. The next couple of chapters will follow very shortly.

The drip of the occasional raindrop left a clammy tingling on Dean’s exposed skin. His arms were braced above his head in an attempt to fend off the cascades of water being released by disturbed branches. Dean tugged his deep green hood further over his face with a growl.

The last two weeks had offered up little more than a deluge of drizzle and monotony. There hadn’t been anyone to ambush. The usual forest traffic seemed to be wrapped up at home waiting for the spring showers to abate, including those of Dean’s men who had homes. They had abandoned the rest of them to the mercy of whoever controlled the heavens.

He’d been so bored that he’d even visited his cousin Ruby, a nun at Kirklees Abbey infirmary (a true sign of desperation). She’d grudgingly given him a couple of tipoffs as to which abbeys were going to be transporting goods through Sherwood before she’d kicked him out of the door (the pain in his calf still reminded him that the kick had been literal). She’d waved him off, telling him to pass on the message that Sam would be welcome if he fancied popping by. Dean made a mental note that that wasn’t going to happen, ever. Ruby and her never-ending supply of poppy juice had done nothing but damage to Sam in his teenage years. There was no way Dean was going to let Sam anywhere near the stuff again, it had practically turned him into a demon.

None of his men had been able to put up with Dean’s terse answers and grumpy inattention over the past couple of weeks. Even Sammy had thrown some choice insults his way after Dean had ever-so-politely told him that he would rather strip naked, cover himself in damp soil and dance through the forest than talk about his ‘feelings’. He’d been feeling off kilter, like an arrow that had had part of its feathers shaven. Each drip of the rain just built up the flood of boredom and yearning.

His dreams had been hounded by a set of searing blue eyes, and any other company merely irked him. Dean felt himself daydreaming about a gravelly voice and quiet companion. He had only been around Cas for three days, but he knew for sure that Cas would have been able to assuage his mood. He would have sat there quietly, ready to talk whenever Dean had got over this nervous feeling of wrongness.

Those of his men that had stayed, the full time members of the Merry Men, had been in much higher spirits than Dean. They joked as they had put up more canopies in their new clearing and kept the wood pile well stocked. All of them were desensitised to such foul English weather and it merely tended to bring a nostalgic hum to the sensibilities of the diminished group. It also meant that there was less work to do, and Ash in particular was enjoying his lie-ins. 

The previous night had almost seemed like a normal gathering when Sam had produced some leather pouches. They contained a dark powdery substance which the gang had ‘liberated’ from a passing merchant. He had shown them how to soak the powder in scalding hot water in order to bring out the rich creamy flavour. Apparently the power was ‘cocoa’ and imported from some exotic place. Pamela had unearthed Bobby’s stash of spirits had insisted that their concoction could only be improved by adding generous lashings of whisky. 

That night they’d managed to coerce Chuck into providing the entertainment. From the recesses of his mind he’d dragged up some long forgotten, and undoubtedly artistically moulded, tales of Dean’s father (affectionately known as Big John). It had been no way to improve Dean’s foul mood. The ‘cocoa’ had held a bitter aftertaste that clung to his tongue in thick layers, although it had started to improve as the whiskey slowly won out. 

Chuck’s tales had ranged from the story of how John had wrestled with a bear to the telling of his courtship of Mary. The story of the bear was true, Dean still had the pelt hoarded somewhere and had spent many a dark night preserving it with a special wax. The legends of his father had always made Dean’s eyes widen with awe, taking him back to a time when he had heard them from the lips of Bobby and Ellen around a cosy campfire whilst John was off on solo missions. He always loved to hear them, plotting out the action in his head and hanging onto images of strategy and bravery. 

Stories involving his mother on the other hand, well… Dean had found himself leaning on the dependable warmth cradled in his hands to keep himself grounded when Chuck started on them. Every time Chuck mentioned Mary, overwhelming memories of sweet appley fragrances and satisfyingly flour-sticky fingers drove unbidden into his consciousness.

The tension had snuck up through his shoulders as Chuck had continued. Getting closer and closer to a tale that Dean had long ago locked in a box and buried deep inside where its damage would be contained and undetected. Dean’s grip on his flagon was so tight that his fingernails had chipped into the wood as the evening progressed. He had sat through the story of how both Dean and Sam had been born, which had elicited a fair few guffaws and jeers as Chuck described how abnormally large Dean’s head had been. The following anecdote of how Dean had tried to sell his new baby brother to the fairies that he insisted lived at the bottom of the garden had failed to ease his agitation (partly because he remembered how physical John’s response to that had been, although looking back on it was still pretty hilarious).He knew what the next part would be, and there was no way in hell he was going to let Chuck go there. 

Chuck had been engrossed in the story, flailing his arms and unconsciously bouncing a little on the soles of his feet, and probably hadn’t realised its sensitive nature. To be fair, it wasn’t like he was privy to the turmoil in Dean’s head. But that still didn’t stop the flash of anger that fizzled within Dean when Chuck continued talking and gesticulating. Dean had drained the rest of his drink, slammed the flagon onto the floor and forcibly told Chuck in no uncertain terms that that was enough.

Even this morning his men were avoiding him, minds still full of his outburst. They obediently followed behind him as he broke through soaking branches, but they all made sure to be engrossed in their own discussions and left Dean and his thumping head to their own devices. Dean was going to scream if he didn’t get out of the forest soon.

This boredom and frustration was the real motivation behind his decision to stop the potter’s cart. The man wasn’t going to have anything of any real value, but Dean couldn’t spend the next few days twiddling his thumbs and begging the rain to stop. 

The cart trundled along the forest path, pulled by an old limping donkey. There was a slight rattling from the back whenever one of the wheels caught a tree root. The wizened old potter had used these roads many a time, and Dean had never before considered it worth their while to stop him. He’d even shared some of the potter’s lunch after assisting him with removing a splinter from the donkey’s hoof.

That’s why when Dean motioned towards the cart Sam gave him a serious case of the stink eye. Luckily the soppy moose didn’t seem to want to vocalise his objections.

Dean motioned the others to stay back before strolling upto the cart. A weary expression passed the potter’s face before he half raised a hand in greeting. The hand fell as soon as he realised the Dean wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“You got any money for us, potter?”

“What?”

“You’ve been coming this way for three years or more, and you’ve yet to pay us a penny of toll. Don’t you think the good men who safeguard your paths deserve a reward?”

The potter’s weary expression became an unmistakeable frown. “I’m just on my way to Nottingham to sell my pottery at the Sheriff’s market. I don’t have a penny to spare on you or any other scoundrel. Glorified pickpocket!“

“You might want to reconsider.” Dean pointedly slid his sword out of its holster, savouring the metallic ring.

The potter’s frown disappeared with a sigh and he crumpled in on himself. “Okay, just let me reach into the back for my purse.”

Dean was just about ready to scream, this offered no challenge. The potter was giving no resistance, he was meekly reaching back and leaning into his cart. Ah screw it, they didn’t need the poor man’s money. He was just about to say as much when the potter’s aged movements stiffened.

The potter whipped round, swinging a menacing quarterstaff. The staff connected with Dean’s sword, sending a jarring motion up through Dean’s wrist as the sword flew off into the undergrowth. Before Dean had chance to react the potter had leapt on him, pinning him to the ground with a deceptively heavy frame. Oh balls.

The staff was now forced against his throat with a heavy grip, not even allowing him room to gasp. Dean’s arms were trapped under the potter’s body, and his every panicked attempt at breathing brought more stars in front of his eyes. During what felt like an eternity, Dean could feel his thoughts drifting away to an absentminded assessment of his surroundings. 

The peaty scent of the forest floor was extremely potent at this level, and Dean could feel the sharp spike of pain digging into his back from where he had been forced on top of his bow. The stars were quickly multiplying, enticing Dean away from consciousness and towards the enveloping comfort of oblivion. Just as he felt it claiming him, the pressure on his throat lifted and the stars in his vision flashed out.

He found himself on his side and sputtering onto the leafy floor, covered in the shadow of Sam and Garth who had hold of the potter. Both of them were sporting gleeful grins. Great. He was never going to live this one down.

“Do whatever you like with me. I’ve not got anything worth stealing anyway.” The potter’s tone was anything but submissive. Dean appraised the stooped man, letting his eyes travel over the wares contained in the cart.

“I’ve got a better idea. You say you’re going to Nottingham for the Sheriff’s market? Well, why don’t we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” the potter snarled.

“I’ll take your wares off your hands and go to Nottingham. Any money I make in Nottingham will be yours. In the meantime you can stay here in Sherwood as my guest. Sammy’ll take good care of you. Whatdya say?”

“Do I even have a choice?” There was a solid accusation in those words, which Dean quickly shrugged off.

“Nope.” Dean answered cheerily before tipping his head to indicate that Sam and Garth should take the Potter away. Then he changed his mind, holding up a hand. “Wait. I need your clothes, I might be a bit conspicuous in this get-up.” He motioned to his Lincoln green cladding. “And there is no way I’m being led into town by a donkey.”

Dean couldn’t help the simple smile that captured his lips as he puckered them, letting out a well-practiced whistle. Whilst he waited he convinced the potter to strip down (which was accompanied by a lot of groaning and fumbling). Luckily the potter’s clothes had been baggy on his small frame, so although they were uncomfortably straining across Dean’s shoulders, the only part that looked truly out of place was the couple of inches of ankle flashing from beneath the grey trousers. He even found the blood coloured hood pretty dashing, not that he would have admitted this to Sam. The potter, on the other hand, was swamped by Dean’s outfit, giving him a dwarf-like appearance.

It only took a couple of minutes to swap clothes, and by the time they had finished Dean could hear a promising rustling in the nearby trees. His downtrodden spirits lifted significantly as the most gorgeous horse in creation cantered towards them through the trees. She was humongous, with a fluttering shiny black mane. Her eyes glinted with sharp intelligence and Dean could not take his own eyes from her simmering obsidian colouring. As she reached him she leaned down nuzzled straight into Dean’s neck, whinnying and blowing warm air through his hair. 

“That’s right beautiful. Good girl.” He fished a carrot from out of his pouch (earning a funny look from Sam) watching as she munched her way through it and running a hand through her mane, picking out bits of twig. He couldn’t help the bits of forest that often got caught in her hair, but he still loved to groom her, almost obsessively. Dean checked her glittering shoes for any scratches or discomfort. “I missed you too baby.”

Sam snorted “What is it with you and that horse. You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“Impala’s not spoiled, are you lovely?” he gave her a quick pat.

The shake of Sam’s head was followed by a self-conscious clearing of his throat. “I don’t think you should be doing this Dean.” 

“Come on Sam, it’s been ages since I went to Nottingham. I’m gonna go mad if I’m stuck here for much longer.”

“Well let us come with you”

“How many potters do you know that have an outlaw entourage? The whole point of this is it’s a stealth mission.” Dean only barely refrained from his trademark eye-roll.

“What are you even planning to do when you get to Nottingham?” God Sam was such a killjoy.

“I’ve not figured that part out yet, but once I have I’ll have Crowley pulling his hair out. For now I’ll just see what trouble I can stir up.” Dean added that little extra bit of spice into his oh-so-charming smile, knowing that it was the perfect way to infuriate Sam.

Dean swung up onto Impala’s back (no way was he going to ride in the cart) and with a gentle nudge of his feet she carefully picked her way along the path, shifting around until she was used to the weight of the carriage behind her. Looking back Dean gave a jaunty wave, earning an answer eye-roll from Sam and a grumble from the potter. With a small twinge of guilt, he noted that his men were almost instantaneously more jovial without his gloomy presence to rain on their parade.

As he made his way through the forest, he felt the stifling feeling of constraint beginning to fall away. Each step towards Nottingham was a step towards freedom and adventure (and Cas) and he would at least be able to find some temporary release for his frustration. Dean found himself whistling a tune similar to that of a night owl, a habit he had only recently picked up. Funnily enough this brought up the image of a soft hand settled within his own rough callouses.

****

Anna had spent her entire morning with nothing but Castiel’s finger tapping to entertain her. They had passed the last couple of weeks after being ‘rescued’ from the forest cooped up in Gabriel’s elaborately distasteful mansion. He occasionally dragged them out for ‘social calls’, but these turned out to be little more than his excuse to cuckold the entirety of Nottingham’s elite. Anna also had the feeling that this wasn’t restricted to the women. Well it appeared nothing ever changed. 

The promising spring weather had turned into drizzle, leaving Nottingham enshrined in gloomy whiteness. There was not much to do. Of the few people she’d met, none of them had wanted to move beyond mind numbing small talk. There was nothing to read, and Gabriel seemed reluctant to take them to visit the surrounding area. God it was so stifling. If she stayed here much longer without access to more satisfying company, she was going to explode.

Anna hadn’t even been able to see Charlie, as her mother appeared to be holding her hostage to protect her from being kidnapped by the bandits that surely hid on every street corner. Charlie must be having even more fun than herself. She desperately missed the bundle of energy and friendliness that she had gotten to know intimately within just a couple of days.

Mostly Anna had focused her energies on ignoring Castiel, and showering him in resentment. However, her attempts to rile Castiel had merely led to him hunching more and withdrawing further behind those puppy dog eyes. He got more miserable as the days went on, and she discovered the fervour behind her wrath beginning to dissipate under the endless confines of boredom. Gabriel had found their ‘spat’ (as he called it) hilarious at first, and he had always enjoyed drama that came at someone else’s expense. Unfortunately he seemed to have grown bored of the situation and so Anna had found herself unceremoniously locked into Gabriel’s ‘lounge’ with Castiel since the morning. 

The walls were adorned with a collection of bawdy nudes (of both sexes). Gabriel hadn’t seemed to have grasped the concept of ‘less is more’ and the entire room was awash with the deepest shades of red and orange possible. It was devoid of anything that could detract from what was obviously an attempt at exoticism. The only embellishments apart from the paintings, and a cornucopia of mirrors, were a set of deep red satin settees and a bright collection of scarves the flowed down from the ceiling. The whole place made Anna want to spend the next month scrubbing herself clean.

Not that the situation was much worse than the previous few days, but at least she’d been free to wander around the mansion, avoiding Castiel’s moping figure. Now deprived of other entertainment all she’d been able to do the entire morning was pick up on the waves of dejection that he radiated. It would be enough to even make Gabriel disheartened. The tapping fingers were also having a grating effect upon her nerves, adding that explosive hint of annoyance to her melancholic mood. There was very little restraining Anna from standing up and slapping some sense into that despondent face. Gabriel was going to pay for this.

Eventually, around late afternoon, Anna could feel the nerves inside her close to detonating. There was an empty feeling pervading her stomach, and if she didn’t do something she was going to go ballistic. Letting out a big sigh and slamming her fist against the seat released some of her tension, but she was still wired up to the hilt. Ahhh sod it. It wasn’t like she was even that infuriated by Castiel anymore. The last few days she had merely been attempting to sooth her pride. Sure what he had done was almost unforgiveable, but she couldn’t spend the rest of her life living in this grotty city without Castiel’s quiet friendship.

“So are you looking forward to meeting April tonight?” The shocked look as he focused upon her face made Anna question the wisdom of her attempt to make up. Castiel studied her with those hypnotic eyes for a little longer before answering with a dispassionate tone.

“It is not a matter I had considered in great depth.”

“But you’re betrothed; surely you must have some response to meeting your future wife.”

“It is of little consequence. I act out of duty to our brothers, my opinion is of little weight in such a matter.”

Anna couldn’t help giving an unladylike shrug. “Well if you don’t like her you could always run off into the greenwood with Robin Hood.” She teased him, not expecting the longing blaze that flashed through Castiel’s eyes at the thought.

Castiel gave a shake of his head before moving off his seat and kneeling in front of her. He gently grasped her hand and soberly declared “I’m sorry Anna.” She just shook her head and realised that a little of the oppressive frustration she had been carrying around with her had lifted. They spent the next couple of hours companionably chatting about the days they had spent greenwood, until they heard the scratch of a key in the lock.

“Ah there’s my squabbling siblings. All made up and kissed better now?” Gabriel ducked his head back behind the door as Anna charged straight towards him. She could just make out his voice telling them it was time to get ready to go to the Sheriff’s banquet before the door slammed back in her face. She tore it open and ran down the corridor trying to figure out where Gabriel had disappeared to, most likely it was into thin air. He was going to regret this prank, Anna thought as she went back to her own room where Lily was waiting to help her get dressed.

****

Meg listened to the tap of her heels on Nottingham’s cobbles and savoured the displeasure she was currently receiving from her companion. She could have asked any of the other noblewomen to join her for her little shopping trip, there were even some of them who would have relished the task. Bela had been angling after a gossip for days, wanting to make an addition to her leverage arsenal. Abbadon as the only female in the Sheriff’s (secret) army was useful although a little unrefined. She was tolerated for her hatred of Crowley and her pure unadulterated ambition, which meant she had provided Meg with a lot of valuable information.

But neither of those women would have afforded Meg as much pleasure as the response she was getting from the little redhead. Charlie had only shown complete contempt for Meg from the minute she had arrived in Nottingham, almost two years ago. Luckily for Meg, Charlie’s mother loved the Sheriff’s wife, so all she had to do was call round and Charlie’s mother would ensure that Charlie was under her power for the rest of the day. It didn’t matter that the old woman was a fruit loop who loved the sound of her own voice, she had proven to be a fairly useful tool in getting Charlie right where she wanted her.

Charlie was glaring at the ground as they meandered through the town, following Meg into any shop she chose without a single word. Meg didn’t mind the silent treatment. In fact she appreciated it, took it as a challenge. Throughout the last few hours she had been baiting Charlie non-stop. This had initially taken the form of vividly graphic descriptions of depraved sex acts. The girl had spent the last few weeks in a nunnery, for God’s sake. You’d think she’d at least have the decency to look disgruntled. Once Meg had exhausted her collection of kinky scenes, she had taken a new tack. She was going to get Charlie under her thumb, one way or another.

Her new attempt turned out to be much more effective than the last. She had moved into Charlie’s personal space, smirking when the redhead had shuffled backwards a little, and ran a strand of the coppery hair through her hands. Meg then proceeded to release a barrage of compliments upon Charlie which had the desired effect. Charlie’s face reached an extremely unattractive hue of beetroot. There was even a flicker of confusion underneath that smouldering manner. Parfait.

Meg had had another ulterior motive, other than being able to relish Charlie’s discomfort, for ‘inviting’ Charlie out. The rumour mill had been turning up stories about how Charlie had been kidnapped along with a certain Castiel Novak. Given their past Meg needed to dig up all she could about her long lost acquaintance, and where better to start than with his fellow kidnapee.

Her attempts to wheedle anything useful from Charlie’s angry little mouth were interrupted when their passageway through the market was blocked off by a sizeable crowd. A low muttering had broken out with the occasional laugh and exclamations of “He must be mad!” and “He’s not going to make any money like that”.

The commotion spiked Meg’s curiosity and she elbowed her way through the crowd, making sure to stomp on any toes that got in her way and dragging Charlie in her wake. As they reached the front Meg could make out the centre of the waves of disbelief. It transpired that it was a red hooded man with rippling muscles and an obscenely tight shirt. He was precariously balanced above the crowd upon a tatty little cart, brandishing bits of pottery. He’d wave a piece of pottery, lobbing it towards whoever was the fastest at making an offer. There was a little boy running around holding a hat and collecting the payments for each bit of pottery.

Meg studied the man, sneering at his exposed ankles and generally tacky appearance. Only his easy air and charming smile stopped her from dragging Charlie off to continue her interrogation. The banter seemed to roll off his tongue, making quick work of anyone wanting to challenge his decisions. He’d managed to diffuse a fight between two old grandmothers by producing another piece of pottery and dousing them in flattery.

Meg kept her eyes fixed on his face, trying to ascertain what the man was playing at. True in this way he could sell his pottery quickly in its entirety, but he seemed unlikely to make much of a profit. Her steady focus meant that she caught the flash of recognition and joy that crossed his face when he noticed Meg’s little companion. Meg missed very little, seeing a very similar smile on Charlie’s face. Well wasn’t that a turn up for the books.

The man had almost reached the bottom of his cart, all that remained being an enticing collection of pottery bead work and delicate little jars. Each had been painstakingly decorated and Meg could see from her position that they must be his most expensive wares. Maybe this was his trick, wait until he assembled his audience and then flog his best pottery for ridiculous prices. Some women in the crowd had already begun to nudge each other after catching sight of the remaining pottery, and a quiet tension hummed through the crowd. 

Meg’s incredulity increased as the red-hooded man jumped down from his cart. He waved cheerily at the crowd and made his announcement “That’s all for today folks.”

Most of the grumbling crowd trundled off, barely glancing over their shoulders. Some of the more persistent shoppers gathered around the cart, pushing their way into the potter’s path as he moved towards where Charlie and Meg were standing. He forced his way past the people who were trying to cajole a sale out of him through any means from flirtation to aggression.

With the crowd dispersed, Meg managed to sneak a glance at the potter’s horse. Or steed should she say. It was a gorgeous creature, easily worth twenty times the pottery that the man could carry in his cart. The horse somehow didn’t fit well with his sad excuse for an outfit. Hmmm fishy.

Meg soon got a much closer view of the red-hooded man as he reached them, taking to care to hide the way her eyes raked up and down his body. He completely blanked her, and seemed to only have eyes for her redheaded companion who seemed to be holding back a smile.

“Ah Miss Middleton, I trust you are in good health.” He bent over with unnecessarily enthusiasm, sweeping Charlie’s hand up to his puckered mouth.

“Mr…” Charlie’s hesitation was far too obvious to be real, and Meg barely kept herself from laughing when she realised it must be for her benefit. Well, if the girl wanted to play games then let her. She could only spin herself further into Meg’s trap.

The man’s cocky grin widened as he seemed to follow Charlie’s lead. “Jimmy Page, but sure you can just call me Jimmy. I helped your mother with her crops last year. How is the dear Lady Middleton?”

“She is well, if a little out of sorts after my adventure with the outlaws, Mr Page.”

“Jimmy.” His swift correction brought out a fit of giggles in Charlie. With any less restraint Meg would be rolling her eyes and making retching noises. The potter’s wink only made it worse. “You should avoid such unsavoury characters, Miss Middleton.”

“Jimmy. What business brings you into town? I had not realised that you had taken to the pottery market.” Despite Charlie’s normal determined attempt to gift Meg with as few words as possible, Meg was still aware that this style of speech was far from typical for Charlie. Charlie was a simple country girl at heart, and any attempt to act differently was bound to raise suspicion. Naïve little lovebird.

“Why now Miss, it is only on this very morn that I have been graced with the honourable calling of the potter. And now that I have sold all my wares I find myself at a loss. I currently have no occupation other than begging beautiful young ladies to accept a humble gift.” Jimmy’s words didn’t seem to sit right in his mouth either. Obviously the pair of them were putting on a show. This could be fun. Particularly once Jimmy produced the coveted property and proceeded to present it to Charlie. When she pointedly coughed he gallantly offered half to Meg. The necklace was simply divine, Meg could feel herself tracing the bright patterns of the beadwork with her fingers. Jimmy had easily seemed to have changed tack. “It seemed only fitting that the most beautiful pottery in Nottingham should go to the two most beautiful women.”

Meg affectedly coughed into her small hand. She would normally have charged into the conversation herself at this point, but she doubted that would gain a positive response from the young man. He had still not removed his eyes from Charlie’s face and they were both shaking from supressing their completely ‘covert’ joke. Charlie drew her attention back to Meg, probably not realising just how much Meg relished the glare directed towards her.

“Well I have someone you should very much like to meet Jimmy. This is Lady McLeod, the Sheriff’s wife.” At this introduction Jimmy instantly swung his attention towards Meg, fixing delighted emerald eyes on her face. So this was a man who valued status. Interesting. Meg smiled demurely, concealing the cogs whirring in her head.

“Why you are such a familiar young merchant, you should be careful or someone might accuse you of having untoward intentions on our little Miss Middleton.”

Jimmy didn’t react to this, merely saying “I think Miss Middleton would be capable of far better suitors than myself, if she were so inclined.”

Meg widened her eyes and made sure her smile was radiating sincerity. “I am sure that is the case. But a man who can lavish a woman with such gifts, and if I may say so seems to lack no physical desirability himself, is one who should not be forgotten so easily. My beloved husband is hosting a feast tonight, in honour of the impending nuptials of one of my dearest friends. I am sure he would love to reward your generosity by inviting you to join us.”

The sudden tension in Charlie’s shoulders was enough reward in itself, particularly as her speech took a more natural lilt. “You know Jimmy, Mr Page, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

The potter gave Charlie an exaggerated wink before bending into a low bow. “Nonsense Miss Middleton, I would value nothing better than a place at the honourable sheriff’s feast table.”

“That’s settled then! We shall look forward to receiving you at seven this evening.” The concern on Charlie’s face as Meg bundled her off was delicious. If only Meg could bottle that expression to preserve it for as long as she chose. It only improved when she noticed Meg glancing back over her shoulder to shoot a sultry stare towards the potter.

The feast this evening looked like it was going to pick up majorly. The chance had been too good to miss. An entire evening to goad red cheeked oh-so-innocent Charlie and her secret little beau. 

Meg quickly found herself sending Charlie on her way home. The girl had clammed up even more since meeting the potter, and Meg was bored of trying to reach the pearl of information regarding Castiel.

Besides she needed to find the dress that would perfectly irritate Crowley. The kind of dress that emanated power and ownership. The sadistic bastard had set up the meal just to punish her. Everything he did had a purpose. He’d even laughed as he’d told her that Castiel would be coming tonight, would get to see what a pathetic little whore he is now. What had been the line “a whore is a whore, is a whore”. Well she was going to show him. After tonight, everyone would know just where Meg Masters stood.

****


	6. Dean Hood and the Potter: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the Cas part feels a bit rushed, I was getting bored with the whole feast scene.

Despite his earlier assurances to Anna, Cas had a rather potent mix of nerves snaking through his stomach as the carriage trundled to a halt. Gabriel rubbed his chest with a wince before impatiently shoving the door open and bounding outside. Anna caught Cas’ eye with a sly smile, which he quickly returned. It had been many years since he had experienced this playful side of her. The endless misery of the last two weeks was almost worth it to see her grin. Plus, Cas gained no small level of satisfaction from knowing that Gabriel’s nipples would serve as a reminder of the consequences of messing with his younger siblings for at least another few hours.

Cas released a strained breath as he hunched over to exit the carriage. He found himself at the end of a long driveway, gazing up at a looming dark stoned mansion. The spiked pikes adorning the roof caught the early evening light, sending it spearing into Cas’ eyes. Despite the imposing nature of the monstrosity Cas found himself chuckling condescendingly. He had spent most of his childhood in buildings three times this size, and with much more fashionable architecture.

He assisted Anna and Lily out of the carriage before they found themselves being ushered inside the gloomy mansion by some downtrodden servants. Gabriel promenaded through the massive hallways as if he had been here countless times, which he probably had. Cas wondered whether he should have warned Gabriel to play nice with Meg. After everything that had happened all those years ago, he had the distinct impression that Meg was still in Gabriel’s doghouse.

As they had entered the mansion Lily had immediately been taken up to her own separate room. Apparently she was Crowley’s niece and as such was staying with him for a few days and so Anna was going to have to do without a maidservant for the rest of the evening. Not that she minded, Lily spooked Anna out as much as she did Cas. Sometimes he could have sworn she was some sinister angel of judgement statue, awaiting the time when she could swoop down and impose her will. Which was of course complete nonsense, she was just a child, and to be fair to her she had never done anything that he felt he could reproach her for. But still, those dead staring eyes were astonishingly creepy.

They were directed into a room which turned out to be the main hall. It was big enough to hold four tables, one of which towered above the rest on a raised platform and was covered in a regal red tablecloth. At the head of this table lounged an average figure. He was snappily dressed, sporting a deep purple waistcoat and a smile that was dripping with meaning. He slipped his feet down from the table, where they had been nonchalantly crossed. Gabriel rolled his eyes at the man before making his way to the opposite side of the table next to Balthazar, one of the few faces that Cas recognised.

“So this must be the infamous Castiel.” Cas could feel the man’s gaze boring into him, like he was trying to draw his soul out through his eyes. “I’m Crowley, or Lord McLeod to my friends. But then again I don’t have any friends. Welcome to my kingdom.” His arms were confidently raised as he gestured around the room. The entire room’s gaze, except for Gabriel and Balthazar who seemed to be whispering to each other, was focused on Cas’ interaction with the Sheriff. 

“Yes, I am Castiel.” Cas was well practiced at keeping his face impassive.

Castiel was about to claim the seat next to Gabriel before he was stopped by Crowley’s obnoxious voice. “Nah ah ah loverboy. Allow me to introduce you to your good ol’ ball and chain.”

Crowley motioned towards an unimposing woman who was doing her best to hide behind a swathe of strawberry blonde hair. “The future bane of your existence, Miss April Kelly.”

Well he’d known this guy for approximately two minutes and he’d already identified himself as a dick. Looked like Gabriel hadn’t been lying. Cas made sure to give Crowley a disconcerting glare before slipping in to the seat next to the strawberry blonde. Thankfully it was at the other end of the table away from Crowley, and very close to where Charlie was sitting. He was even more relieved when Anna positioned herself opposite him, right next to a welcoming Charlie.

He turned towards the strawberry haired girl who was doggedly staring down at a tear in the red tablecloth. He gently nudged her arm. “Miss Kelly? I am Castiel Novak.”

Her eyes flickered up to his face before returning to fix on the table. “Pleased to meet you Mr Novak.”

“You can call me Castiel, we are betrothed after all.” Castiel stated with a small shrug, earning a quiet smile from his companion. “I hear that you assist with the poor relief for the Church…”

“Hey Cas, have you met Mr Page yet?” Charlie interrupted with eyes twinkling with mischief. He couldn’t deny the feeling of gratitude he felt towards her for preventing him from having to make small talk with his future wife. April’s attention was quickly claimed by the general sat to her other side, who appeared to be called Uriel. Cas briefly shook his head in answer to Charlie.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jimmy, Mr Page is my father.” The deep jesting voice came from a red-hooded man sat to the side of Charlie. It sent a hum through Cas’ body as he tried to pinpoint where he had heard it before. The shock of realisation shot through Cas when the man turned to face him, tilting his hood back and beaming with barely repressed laughter.

Cas, always one to maintain composure, offered Dean no proof that he had recognised him. He pitched his voice at a level to make it deeper than Dean’s. “Why Mr Page, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Cas is it? That seems like a rather silly name to me.” Cas was pleased to see that Dean had risen to the challenge, letting his words come out in a low growl.

“No worse than Jimmy Page, I could almost have sworn that it is a name you made off the top of your head. What do you think Anna?” Anna was equally quick to hide her surprise, smiling and agreeing with his statement.

“No indeed, my own father gave it to me on the day I was born. I am pleased to see that you and this lovely lady are getting along so amicably.” Dean nodded gently towards Anna, and Charlie grinned at the siblings adding a quiet “Me too.”

Cas acknowledged their point, taking a long sip of wine before turning back to Dean. “And what line of work are you in Mr Page.”

“If it please you sir, I am a potter.” 

“Well I guess that is at least far more honest work than being a pickpocket or an outlaw. How long have you been in the business?”

“I have to agree with you there sir, it takes a stupid man to become and outlaw. Since this morning.” Cas struggled to hold in a chuckle.

“What brings you here today, not to appear offensive but I would wager few potters get to sit at Crowley’s table.”

“Well, that’d be me.” A sultry female voice intoned right behind Cas’ ear, breaking into the jovial atmosphere.

He couldn’t stop his little jump, nor the huff of laughter that blew into his ear. “Remember me, cause I sure as hell remember you Clarence.”

“Meg.” He said stiffly, eyes still fixed on Dean’s face. He felt the light pressure of a stroke along his shoulder before she took the seat at the end of the table. She was dripping with wealth. Her low cut red dress clung in all the right places, the expensive fabric swirling with each movement. Her face had been carefully plied with the latest style of make-up, sensuous lips made dangerous by a thick glossy coat of blood-red.

Even under layer upon layer of makeup Cas could make out a set of dark bags and slight wrinkles that hadn’t stained her form last time he’d seen her. There was even a fresh bruise on the left side of her forehead. She was fiddling with a set of colourful beads hung round her neck, sending a sly look towards Charlie and Dean.

“Our pretty little potter here was kind enough to grace me with some of his wares, and considering that he was on such good terms with Miss Middleton I figured it would be unthinkable not to invite him to our small gathering.”

Cas was surprised to see the angry scowl on Charlie’s face as she considered Meg, but as the evening wore on it became pretty clear it was deserved. He remembered that Meg had tried similar tricks on Anna, before she had realised that Anna was pretty impervious and had moved her attentions onto Lucifer.

Meg continued with a laugh. “Crowley was slightly resistant to receiving our generous hero. Fortunately I managed to convince his highness to shut his fat face and let our esteemed guest join the top table.” The smirk she directed towards Crowley was easily returned, but there was no mistaking the slight shiver that went down Meg’s back.

Once Meg was seated servants started to bring round bowls of soup and chunks of bread. At this point all the tables in the hall had been filled. The lower tables held the ‘riff raff’ as Cas heard Crowley refer to them, whilst their table was attended by the wealthy and flamboyantly dressed.  
Cas was much amused to hear preening women boasting about their costumes, not realising that the style had not been worn in London since last summer.

Cas was mostly studying Dean’s face and his ridiculous hood, and so saw the look of surprise on his face when the servant filling Dean’s bowl turned out to be Kevin. Kevin’s movements stuttered for a minute before he started to fill Charlie’s bowl, earning a friendly smile.

This broke Cas away from the happy thrill he’d been experiencing since he’d seen Dean again, which even Meg’s appearance hadn’t been able to ruin. If Kevin was there, who else with a more malicious agenda would be able to recognise Dean? Judging by the way Charlie was worrying her lip she was of a similar mind.

Completely ignoring Cas and Anna, Meg was focusing her attention on Charlie and Dean, lathering her speeches in innuendos. Meg seemed to have got hold of the impression that Charlie and Dean were engaged in some form of coitus and was refusing to let it go. Dean seemed unfazed, even responsive to her flirting and teasing. Charlie, on the other hand, was positively squirming, apparently much to Meg’s delight. When Meg started fluttering her eyelashes at Dean, Cas forced himself to breathe slowly lest he do something stupid. The only thing he could think to do was to change the topic.

“So Charlie, how does your mother fare?”

“Come now, Clarence. Nobody wants to hear about boring things like that. This is a feast, you should be discussing scandal and debauchery. For example, I’m sure Charlie and Jimmy have plenty of juicy tales that they’d love to share.” The suggestive way Meg winked at Dean set Cas’ hackles on edge.

“That’s enough Meg. We don’t require any more of your debased taunting.”

She moved her attention to Cas. “Keep talking dirty, makes my meat suit all gooey. You know Clarence…”

Meg’s witticism was cut off in mid flow as she looked underneath the table in the direction of her leg. She sent a scathing glare towards her knee, slick with venom. A few seconds later a chubby little hand popped up and caught the top of the table followed by a shock of ridiculously messy hair. Cas watched unblinkingly as the interruption used the table and Meg’s leg to scramble up and position itself happily in her lap. The little boy (who couldn’t have been older than three) let out a joyous chuckle when she placed her hands on his shoulder to position him towards her.

The filthiest glower Cas had ever seen grace Meg’s face was directed towards this small child. But this just seemed to increase the child’s chuckles as he started bouncing up and down in her lap. Her glower seemed to sink off her face, replaced by a look of honest bewilderment and doubt. Cas had never seen anything destroy Meg’s confident and facetious manner in such a complete way as this bundle of giggles.

“Mummy, do you want to see what I got?”

The frown quickly returned. “No.”

To Cas’ left Anna was struggling to close her mouth which was hung open with a look of horror. “Don’t tell me someone actually let you give birth.”

The stare that failed to work on the humming child still occupying Megs knee was turned in full force to Anna, who seemed much more susceptible to its influence. “You really think I want whipper-snappers running round wiping their snotty noses on my dresses? I think not. The little rotter is Crowley’s bastard. I’m supposed to be his default nanny, that’s why Crowley married me.” Even Meg’s snorts had a mocking quality. “Let’s just say he didn’t really think that idea through. But here we are, for better or worse.” She twisted the intricate gold ring that sat on her finger, rubbing it around painful-looking grooves.

Her attention was quickly regained by the little boy on her lap who was making whining noises and bouncing even more violently. “Shut up, Gertrude.”

The boy started bouncing up and down, a tone to his voice that said that he had taken this as a joke. “I’m not Gertrude, I’m Gavin.”

“I don’t care if you’re the king of England, sod off.” She gave the little boy a push, but Cas noticed that he hadn’t actually been forced off her lap yet. The little nudge only spurred the boy on and he reached into his pocket.

“Look Mummy, Cook helped me make this for you. Look it says your name.” Cas could practically feel the vibrations of excitement running through the child.

A pair of sticky hands reached out to show her what appeared to be a half cooked pastry lathered in swathes of glistening jam. It did seem to have been moulded into shape, but was now little more than a blob. Unfortunately the concoction collided with Meg’s dress, and somehow jam ended up smeared all along her hair.

Meg gave a grunt of disgust, crushing the pastry into a pile of mush, slamming it back into the child’s hand. This time when she shoved him it was hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground. From behind the table Cas could hear a small high pitched voice, filled with fear and worry, tentatively reach out. “Don’t you like it mummy?”

Meg seemed to lose it at that, rage pulsing through her eyes. “Of course I didn’t, you silly little fool. It was horrible, messy and pathetic. I wouldn’t have eaten it if it was the last piece of food on the planet and I was slowly starving to death. You ruined my dress, and my hair, you son-of-a-bitch.”  
At this the boy’s high pitched whine instantly transformed into a high-pitched wail, reverberating around the room as Gavin pushed past Meg’s restraining arm, burying his head into her skirts and begging her to forgive him. The remainder of the hall was flung into silence, the whole room able to witness Meg’s glare changing into a soft frown. She tentatively placed a hand on the boy’s head, giving it an awkward pat.

Cas watched as Crowley stormed over from his end of the tale, his easy smile obviously masking the maelstrom of a carefully controlled temper. Crowley gave a flourishing shake of his hand, addressing the hall. “Boys will be boys. Don’t worry, get back entertaining yourselves from my very generous and deep pocket.” This was followed by Crowley grabbing an increasingly quiet Gavin by the collar, shifting him up onto his tiptoes. 

“You know what happens when big boys upset Daddy.” Crowley’s menacing hiss was barely perceptible, but the boy seemed to hear it and shrink in on himself.

Meg shot up, putting her hand on Crowley’s shoulder, as if by accident, placing herself in between him and the boy. She was whispering, her tone superficially light and placating. The Sheriff used his free arm to force her back down in the chair, leaning over the back of it to mutter something into her ear. From the way she tensed, Cas could tell it was nothing good. His hand clenched under the table, despite everything itching to smash it into Crowley’s face for whatever he was doing. But that would help no one. 

Crowley sauntered out of the room with Gavin in tow after giving Meg a delicate peck on the cheek which sent visible tremors through her body. Meg stared at the floor as she excused herself, exiting the hall from a different entrance than Crowley.

Cas shared looks with Anna and Gabriel. Cas leaned in to Anna to murmur “If I had known Meg had got herself into this bad a situation I would have come to Nottingham sooner.”

“What would you have done? She made her bed. Remember how she treated you Castiel?” Anna’s voice was unforgiving, dripping with judgement. “Personally, I think she deserves everything she gets.”

He leaned back, a mix of worry and guilt passing across his face until he met the concerned gaze of April. He adopted his normal blank expression and nodded at her, his voice equally neutral. “How do you find the food Miss Kelly?”

A slight blush crept over her features as she stared at the food. “Just delightful, Castiel.” She managed to say his name with a little giggle. The next few minutes were spent in conversation with April. The most exciting topic touched upon was the weather, and Cas’ social skills were not improved by the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach every time Dean shot them a pensive look. The situation quickly led to him clamming up, all possible subjects of conversation with April dried up.

At that moment Meg came back into the room, wearing a fresh dress and with her hair pinned back. She jumped back down into seat, her normal sarcastic smile gracing her features. April’s attention was quickly called back to Uriel who was discussing the state of the pottery market with Dean. Cas could only hear parts of the conversation but it seemed like Dean was trying to see how outrageous he could make his bullshitting before he got caught out. His current line seemed to be that what the pottery business most needed to boost itself was a bigger market for water jugs with holes in the bottom. 

Cas returned to listening to Meg just in time to see the Crowley had also returned to the hall, pushing Gavin in front of him, his red face the only sign that his temper had found some release. The boy was carefully sat by the wall behind Meg and told not to make a noise or to eat anything. The boy remained there obediently, streams of tears pouring down his face, arms curled around himself and rubbing his mop of hair into even more of a mess.

The conversation returned to its earlier style, everyone acting as if the incident never happened. Meg was no different from her chipper taunting self and was soon having a jolly time ripping into Balthazar’s flamboyant accent.

In a movement so fast that Cas was sure he had mistaken it, a chicken leg found itself flung from Meg’s plate to the sobbing mess by the wall. Her mocking expression didn’t change an ounce. After the scene he had witnessed earlier, he found it difficult not to summon up some sympathy for the woman. Cas could only grin to himself, thinking back to a time when they had raided the kitchen at his house. She had distracted the kitchen staff and thrown morsels of food to him in his position under the table whenever they turned their backs. Back then Meg had similarly not moved a single muscle of her expression, lest it give her away. She hadn’t even given the boy a glance. 

She looked up from her plate, catching his admiring stare and shrugged self-consciously. He lifted his own chicken leg and placed it on Meg’s plate. The scowl she gave him demanded an explanation.

“You seem to have already finished your chicken, and if I remember rightly you have a certain taste for it. I, on the other hand, am still rather ambivalent to that particular meat. It thought you would appreciate my share, no?”

Meg was saved from replying by Dean asking where the little boy’s room was. She quickly regained her composure and responded by reaching her hand out to stroke his shoulder, saying “I’m sure nothing is little about you Jimmy.”

Cas stood up claiming that he also needed the toilet. As he left the table he felt a soft touch on his arm. “I’m sorry Cas. After everything I’d like us to still be friends.”

That was all the apology he was ever going to receive from Meg, so he guessed it would have to do. A small tilt of his lips seemed to be all she needed by way of reply.

****

 

Once they were on the other side of the door, Dean realised that he and Cas were alone. The nobleman had fixed him with one of his intense stares, those blue eyes infused with a smile. Before Dean could help himself he’d swept the guy into his arms in a massive bear hug. Cas’ body initially failed to respond, holding its resistance for a few tense moments before he relaxed slightly and patted Dean on the back.

“Good to see you man.” Dean pulled back to survey the dark haired man, giving his head a quick ruffle. Cas still just stood there watching him before a grin split his face into two. “Hi, Dean.”

“I was actually gonna go find Kevin if you wanna join?” Cas just nodded at him before following on Dean’s heels like an excited little puppy dog. Dean didn’t have the heart to suggest that he probably shouldn’t be walking pressed so close up to him.

“Why are you pretending to be a potter?” Cas’ rough voice was like music to his ears after all those months.

“It was getting boring in the forest, I needed a break and the potter gig just happened to crop up.”

Cas seemed to consider this for a moment before doing his little head tilt. “I don’t like your trousers.” Dean could only sigh as he carried on walking, Cas bumping into him every time he stopped to check the way was clear.

They finally located Kevin in the kitchen, bustling around with several plates balanced on his arms. Dean waited in the doorway giving him a little wave when he looked towards them. Kevin looked anything but thrilled.

“What do you want, Dean?” Kevin suspiciously glanced over his shoulder. There was a dark shading under his eyes and a hard set to his mouth that hadn’t been there last time Dean had seen him.

“I saw you and thought it’d be rude not to come and say ‘hi’. What are you doing working for Crowley?”

Kevin leaned towards them, practically whispering. “My mother’s sick, we need all the help we can get.”

“You could have come and talked to me, I would have sorted you out. You don’t have to run around being Crowley’s little lackey.” 

“Here’s the thing.” Dean’s stomach dropped as Kevin failed to meet his eyes. “My mother wants nothing to do with you. After the feast the other night she said you guys were bad news, and that I’m not allowed to have anything to do with outlaws and that you’re all going to end up on the gallows.”

Kevin’s shoulder was shaking as Dean rested his hand on it. He shook his head when Dean drew out a purse “Unfortunately I don’t have any money on me to give, what I have is already promised to another. But take this, courtesy of one of the ‘friends’ of Robin Hood.” He pressed an ornate ring, glittering with jewels and decorations, into Kevin’s sweaty palm.

“But I promised my mother. She’d have my guts for garters if she found out.”

“Trust me.” Dean was pleased to see that his wink had earned a grudging smile from Kevin. He was less pleased by the headshake that followed his next words. “You know you’ve always got a place with us don’t you.”

“As much as I hate working here, I don’t have much choice. I can hardly bring my mother into the forest and she’d notice if I was running off all the time. Besides, with the mood you’ve been in over the past few weeks I haven’t exactly felt appreciated.”

Cas, who in his usual style had been hovering behind Dean and silently listening, saved Dean’s sheepish response by pushing past him so that he was well into Kevin’s eye-line. “Perhaps a different position would suit you. I myself am in need of a manservant. I’m sure I can pay you a suitable wage and I’m not part of Dean’s gang so should meet your mother’s requirements. Although I cannot answer as to how agreeable a task you will find it.”

Dean was quick to express his gratitude, giving Cas’ hand a gently returned squeeze. He deliberately ignored Cas’ assertion that he was not connected to Dean, that could easily be fixed. Dean may not have known him for very long, but he knew from the first minute that he laid eyes on him that he was going to stake his claim. One way or another Cas was going to join the Merry Men.

“I can’t just ditch Crowley, he’ll have my head on a platter before I can say ‘fiddlesticks’. But if the offer is still open in a few weeks then I might take you up on it.” The smile on Kevin’s face was tentative at best, but Cas responded warmly. With a mirthful jest Dean had to question why Kevin would be saying fiddlesticks in the first place. He gave Kevin another quick wink before announcing that they should get back to the party, shoving Cas out of the door in front of him.

Dean turned round in the doorway. “Hey Kev, can you do a bit of digging in Crowley and Meg’s stuff and see what dirty laundry you can dig up, the dirtier the better.” He didn’t stop to catch the look of pure fear and weary pain that crossed Kevin’s face, only staying long enough to grab some tauntingly enticing small pies from the plate Kevin had been holding. Neither did he let Kevin’s grumbling mutter put a damper on his spirits.

Cas adopted a spring to his step as they made their way back towards the hall, sending an infectious energy into Dean’s bones. Despite this, he still couldn’t help himself from asking the question that had been burning at the back of his mind. “So that was your fiancé sitting next to you in there? Your actual fiancé?”

“Yes. We are not well acquainted. However, she does have the advantage of not being my sister.” Cas’ deadpan delivery left Dean blinking at him until the joke came across. Was he ever going to understand this guy?

“How come you’re marrying her if you don’t know her?” Dean struggled to keep the completely unjustified tone of accusation and hurt from his voice.

“It is my duty. My eldest brother has a strong desire to create connections with her father, and even the bastard son of a king apparently holds some value as a spouse for a noble’s daughter. My brothers have supported myself and Anna since our biological father died and I owe this to them. It’s not like I have a desire to marry any other woman.”

“I getcha, family’s important. But that doesn’t mean they should choose who you bump uglies with for the rest of your life. Marriage is permanent, it’s forever.” Dean’s tone got softer. “It should be with someone you love.”

“Is that what you’re waiting for? Love?” There was a dismissive quality to Cas’ words that was particularly irksome.

“Yes, actually. I’ve dodged the bullet a few times, it just didn’t feel right. Plus, commitment issues, you know.” Dean anxiously laughed it off. Cas seemed to let it go, although his gait had acquired a more reserved quality. Still, Dean was unnervingly happy to realise that Cas was still maintaining unnecessarily close contact.

Just as they reached the hall, Dean felt a tug on his shoulder. A pair of unblinking blue eyes stared straight into his. The eyes hypnotised him for a long moment before the now familiar gritty voice spoke with an almost discernable hitch. “If it were up to me I would not be getting married.”

A sense of loss pervaded Dean’s subconscious when those eyes removed themselves and a smooth pair of hands shoved open the doors.

When Dean and Cas re-entered the hall, the entire place had rearranged itself. The women seemed to have grouped around one end of the high table, carefully trying to cover up the fact that they were playing a game of cards.

Most of the residents of the lower tables had drifted off, probably to return to work or get to bed in preparation for a gruelling early morning whilst their masters made merry. Those remaining were made up of the Sheriff’s guards, kitted out in his livery. Among them were more than a few red cheeks and slurred declarations.

Dean burst into a conversation between Crowley and two of his commanders, Uriel and Henriksen. Uriel had convinced Crowley to cough up 40 shillings as a prize to the man who could shoot the best, but Henriksen was arguing that alcohol and shooting did not make for comfortable bedfellows. On the whole Dean was inclined to agree with Henriksen. He only let his men drink and shoot when he himself was too wasted to judge properly, and even then Sam normally stepped in to stop it. But this seemed the perfect opportunity to realise his own agenda of mischief.

Careful to appear properly deferential he wrung his hands together as he approached the Sheriff. “Tell me sir, would such a wager be open to those outside the guard?”

Crowley stared him down before offering up a quick tilt of his head. “If you want to play in the big boy’s pool then go ahead. Just don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

Dean grinned, seating himself next to Cas, accidentally brushing his knee against the nobleman’s thigh. He could swear imagine the soft sigh that left those chapped lips. Sat opposite Cas was Gabriel, who Dean recognised but luckily he was fairly sure the nobleman wouldn’t be able to return the favour. Cas’ seemed to be turning a blind eye to Gabriel’s astoundingly obvious attempt to pull the moves on his bride-to-be. Wow that guy didn’t waste a minute. From what little Dean had gathered none of the other guests had managed to get more than small pleasantries from the blushing maid. Yet here Gabriel was, drawing out giggles and conversation left right and centre.

It was only once Gabriel had leaned in and stage whispered a question about the freshness her cherry garden was that Cas intervened. Dean was impressed by the forceful way he elevated Gabriel from his chair, dumping him down in front of an exceedingly grateful busty brunette. The strawberry blonde, April apparently was her name, withdrew straight back into her shell once Gabriel had left. April. What kind of cruel parent named their child after a goddamned month?

The small talk between Cas and April quickly degenerated into awkward silence as Cas’ stoic nature became downright reserved, almost rude. Dean could tell that he was actually trying to make an effort, but April’s flush showed that this didn’t translate. Great, apparently Dean was going to have to play translator. As dubious as he might be about their impending nuptials, he couldn’t leave Cas hanging.

Dean confidentially moved closer to April, sending out one of his brightest smiles. “Did you know that Castiel likes to sing to his horses?” Dean got about a second of laughter out before he noticed those deep blue eyes fixing on him. Shit. He’s forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to know that. And Cas wasn’t supposed to know that he knows that. Now he was going to look like a grade A stalker.

It seemed to do the trick with April. She was apparently incredibly chatty if she found the right subject, rambling on and on about how much she loved horses. Cas’ attentive posture suggested that he was perfectly content to listen to her. Dean left them to it, ignoring the flutter in his stomach, and focused his attention on the shooting competition that had just started.

He waited patiently as man after man swaggered their way up to a point facing the target, and shot spectacularly poorly. Not a single arrow reached the centre of the target; a few even impaled an old tapestry balanced against a wall.

Once that catastrophe had finished Dean approached Crowley again, ignoring Cas’ warning frown burning into his back. “Lend me a bow and I will shoot true, by God. Better than any of these pranksters anyway.” He gestured around, noting the looks of warning on Charlie and Cas’ faces.

Crowley’s leer was sinister. “I don’t see why not. And if you beat my men you are welcome to the 40 shillings. But…” He firmly held his hand up. “…if not you will have to hmm…”. The Sheriff tapped his fingers against his chin. “Strip down to your birthday suit and give us all a resounding rendition of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.”

God, the man was a prick. Dean was going to enjoy nothing better than dropping him down a peg or two. So when the Sheriff wiggled his eyebrows and asked if they had a deal, Dean squared his jaw and nodded.

The pathetic excuse for a bow that was thrust into his hands didn’t seem up to much. He gingerly tested the give in the wood. It would have to do. Purposefully Dean spread his feet, taking strength from his solid stance. He slotted the arrow into place, pulling the bowstring to its tightest position. A quick breath to centre himself. The twang of the bow string vibrated against his fingers for a few moments after he had released the arrow. Despite the inferior nature of the equipment the arrow made it to the target, landing slightly closer to the bull’s-eye that the next closest arrow had been. A few cheers had passed through the hall, but Dean was mentally kicking himself. Come on. He was Robin Hood for fucks sake. He should be doing way better than this. If his dad had been there to see that shot then Dean would have had his bow pulled from between his hands and snapped in two without a moment’s hesitation.

His next shot drew a communal gasp as it embedded itself perfectly in the centre of the target with a loud thump. Now that was more like it. He made sure to flash a triumphant smirk in Crowley’s direction. Smug fucker.

Dean pulled his arm back. Time for his signature move. It had been so long since he’d done this, he didn’t think even Charlie had ever seen it. Carefully he took his sight, gently pulling back the bowstring, making it hum under his soft touch. Letting the rest of the world fall away, Dean made himself focus on the wood beneath his fingers. Eye on the prize. Three. Two. One.

Seemingly in slow motion, the arrow propelled through the air. It cut through the arrow already in the centre as smoothly as if it were butter. This shot was greeted by absolute silence.

Dean spun round, twirling his fingers and bowing low enough to see his toes, barely refraining from blowing Crowley a fuck-you kiss. He proceeded to walk around the end of the table which sported the gaggle of stunned women. He quickly bent down as he passed Gavin’s dishevelled figure staring at him with wide eyes. Pressing a finger in front of his lips, Dean threw a little apple pie down to the little boy. It was only right, after all pie should be constituted as a basic human right. He ruffled the tyke’s hair, slumping into the seat opposite Cas. The nobleman was gazing at him with a stunned look, practically drooling from his open mouth.

Several of the sheriff’s men were giving Dean openly hostile glares, full of envy. Others were slapping each other on the shoulder, obviously mocking them for being beaten by a potter.

The thick silence was broken by Crowley’s cackle. He threw a blue purse towards Dean. “Well dress me in pink and call me Shirley. With an eye like that I could guarantee you a place in my guard. I should think you may even be able to beat Robin Hood in a fair fight.”

“I think that such a feat would be impossible, I could never possibly win in a contest against Robin Hood.” Dean said, catching Cas’ eye. He couldn’t let himself be side-tracked by jokes, this was the perfect chance to make a move. “And yet for all the outlaw’s skills at archery, I find myself no advocate of his.”

“I should hope not. My lieutenant, Azazel of Gisborne is absent from our celebration tonight in order to follow a tip off that should lead to the capture of the little bugger. What, pray tell, did the petty criminal do to you to earn such a vehement denouncement.” 

Dean stifled his sigh of relief. It must have been luck that Azazel was not at the feast. He was one of the few people who would have been able to recognise Dean. Although Dean couldn’t deny that he’d have loved the chance to have it out with the monster. One day he would make sure the bastard got what was coming to him.

“Robin Hood cheated me out of my hard earned money this very morning on my way to market. I had a full sum of two pounds in my pocket before I entered the Sherwood, sadly never to be seen again.” Judging by the shrewd twinkle to the Sheriff’s eye, Dean was about to catch him, hook line and sinker.

“This morning you say. Can you recall which part of the forest you saw him in?”

“As clear as day. I even know where he’s hiding out.”

Crowley was practically dancing with excitement. “And you’d be able to show me?”

“I don’t know about that, sir. He is a mighty scary man, I would not cross him for anything in this world.” Looking scared didn’t come easily to Dean, and he knew his acting left a lot to be desired. However, Crowley seemed to be lapping it up like the dog he was.

“What about if I promised to return what he took from you, but doubled?”

“Sir that’s a very generous offer, but I have to go through the forest every time I go to market, and I hold no desire to meet my untimely end in her dark depths.” Dean wasn’t going to be able to keep a straight face for much longer.

“All the more reason to remove the outlaws from the forest. What about tripled? That’s my final offer.” Crowley had ditched his smile and the sickly threat intoned in this statement was obviously designed to intimidate the potter.

Dean managed to keep his slow nod reserved, and a little reluctant. The details were quickly decided upon for the next morning. He could barely stop himself from rubbing his palms together as he convinced Crowley that they needed the element of surprise and so couldn’t take more than fifteen men. The only shock, reflected as much upon the other nobles’ faces as on Dean’s, was that Cas had quietly offered himself up for one of the fifteen places.

Crowley took his leave of the hall shouting in high spirits. “We’ll flush the rodent out of his hole!”

The next couple of hours passed quickly. Against his instincts Dean left Cas and April to talk, ignoring Cas’ pointed looks in his direction. Most of the women continued to play cards. Gabriel had disappeared with his brunette. A buzzing atmosphere built up in the hall as the guardsmen drowned themselves in beer. Tomorrow was going to be like taking candy from a baby, or at least taking the dignity from a group of hungover Neanderthals.

****


	7. Dean Hood and the Potter: Part 3

Kevin slipped out of the kitchen, dodging a particularly hard missile as it whistled past his ear. His legs ached, his feet hurt and his hands were throbbing. His stomach grumbled from a lack of attention. With a sigh he studied the slashes of rain that broke through the darkness outside. Great. He still had a three miles walk home. Could his day get any better?

The soles of his shoes were worn a bit thin, and he absentmindedly wondered whether they would hold together long enough for him to get home. It made him pause by the little side door, stamping his feet and trying to summon up the nerve to venture outside. Just as he worked the nerve up to rest a hand on the doorknob he felt a pressure on his shoulder.

Anna was stood in front of him, under the ethereal light of the candle looking for all the world like a vengeful angel. Before he could speak she’d launched into a tirade. “You’ll never guess what Dean’s gone and done! He’s convinced Crowley to launch a sneak attack into the forest. I have no idea what he’s hoping to achieve, he’s only going to piss Crowley off. I wouldn’t care but he’s roped Castiel into his games and it’s just too much. You need to stop him.”

“Good to see you too Anna.” It was difficult to keep the bitterness from seeping into his comment. He was knackered and starving, and in approximately two minutes he was going to be soaked through too. Not to mention that this bundle of attitude had spent a comfortable evening feasting at the expense of him and his labour, not to mention his sanity. Not that Anna noticed, she just blinked at him and carried on her rant.

“He’s taking the Sheriff into the forest, he’s going to try to rob him!” Anna’s reiteration was lacking a certain level of patience.

“Kevin, I was looking for you. Hi Anna.” Charlie seemed almost shy in the other woman’s presence as she broke into their conversation before Kevin had chance to reply.

“What’s up?” 

“It’s about Dean.” At least Charlie seemed to notice the weary lean to Kevin’s posture and managed to sound a little apologetic.

“Of course it is.” Kevin just couldn’t catch a break. God preserve him from demanding redheads and their demands. “Let me guess it’s about whatever his plan is for the Sheriff. What’s that got to do with me?”

Anna leapt in. “We’ve all tried to talk some sense into him, now it’s your turn.”

“What? What can I do about it?” It’s not like Dean had tried to make contact in weeks. Even when they did talk it normally was just serving some utilitarian purpose or ended up with Dean making a point of ignoring whatever he said.

Charlie’s tone was conciliatory, the counterpoint to Anna’s harsh style. “We thought you might have better luck, he seems to quite like you.”

Yeah right. The sleepy fuzz in Kevin’s head stopped him from repressing his snort. 

“Will you have a word with him? Anna and I have outstayed our welcome and need to get home. Please Kevin, I don’t want a dead Dean on our hands.” 

How could he say no to those puppy-dog eyes? Kevin shrunk in on himself with a sigh and was instantly swamped by Charlie’s hug. “Which room is he in?”

“Crowley’s put him and Castiel in the pink room.”

Kevin allowed himself to give the door a wistful look before he moved off to find the outlaw, leaving Anna and Charlie to bustle off. All he wanted was to go home, see to his mother, and curl up in his lumpy straw bed. Maybe even work on the manuscripts he’d scrupulously collected in order to work his way into the monastery. Yet it looked like it was going to be more difficult than he thought to shake off Dean Winchester. 

He kept his knock reverential when he found the right door. At the order of “Come in” he entered a room with the most distasteful shade of salmon pink he had ever had the misfortune of coming across. Against the wall was a luxurious four-poster bed, which Castiel was currently perched on. The nobleman looked completely out of place, fully dressed in formal attire and with his spine as straight as a rod. His face wore its usual impassive shroud, but the way he was rubbing his fingers together suggested something was wrong. Dean was pacing up and down in front of the bed, bouncing with nervous energy. A big grin was already on his face when he turned round to survey Kevin.

“Just the man I was looking for. Guess what Kevin, I’ve got a job for you.”

“No. Actually I’m here…”

“I need you to go tell Sam to round up all the men he can get, I’m bringing him a present nice and early tomorrow morning.” So as per usual Dean was just going to blow straight over what he had to say.

“I’m not doing this anymore Dean. My mother told me not to. I’m only here because Charlie and Anna wanted me to come and tell you to stop being an asshat.”

“You’re such a momma’s boy. Ignore Anna and Charlie, they don’t know what they’re talking about. Tell you what, do this and I’ll put in a good word for you with Pamela.” Dean seemed anything but focused, blurting out his words in a fast stream.

“She’d chew me up and spit me out, you know that. Besides, she’s head over heels for Garth. I’m not interested Dean.” He had no idea how Dean had picked up on his crush, but there was no way he was going to be manipulated into doing his dirty work. He wasn’t lying anyway, Pam would never give him a second look.

“I’ll take your mother to Kirklees Abbey, I know a nun there who might be able to fix her up. I’ll drive her up myself as soon as I’ve finished with this.”

Kevin’s fists curled into tight balls, reflecting the rage that Dean’s words had built up inside of him After everything he had ever given up for Dean, the outlaw was going to blackmail him by using Kevin’s mother against him. He had always thought before that seeing red was just an artistic expression. He was wrong. “You bastard, you weren’t going to tell me about that earlier?” 

“I hadn’t thought of it earlier.” Dean’s shrug did nothing to alleviate the desire to smack him one, and Kevin’s fists merely bunched up tighter

“You’re trying to use my mother as leverage.”

Dean gave a sheepish grin at that. “Maybe. Okay, not really. I’ll help her get treatment either way. Come on, you’ll be doing me a big favour, and it’s a great chance to stick it to Crowley. I’ll owe you one, big time.”

Kevin carefully focused on calming his breathing, flexing his fingers. He just wanted to be back home. But judging from the worry emanating from Cas, Dean had gotten himself into a situation that wouldn’t be good for his health, whether he realised it himself or not. Plus he couldn’t help Kevin’s mother if he was playing at being worm food. “Fine, but this is the last thing I’m doing for you Dean. I’m wanting to join the cloth, and I can’t do that if I’m helping an outlaw in my spare time.”

He struggled to hold on to his desire to help Dean when the outlaw gave a derisive snort. There was a reason he hadn’t admitted his pipedream before. “Sure you can, Bobby does it all the time. But, yeah I get what you’re saying, one time deal. Tell Sam to be ready by the batman tree, he’ll know what I mean.”

Castiel finally stilled his hands and made his own input. “Dean, this isn’t a good idea. You are just going to aggravate Crowley, what are you going to gain?”

Dean’s reply was interrupted by a voice from the other side of the door. “You ladies might want to make yourselves decent, I’m coming in.” Kevin found himself pushed to the floor and shoved unceremoniously under the bed. Without even the courtesy of a knock Meg barged into the room. He had a perfect view of her deadly heels, black as the night and sharp as knives. One of the serving girls bore the shape of that heel imprinted on her cheek after having the nerve to suggest that Meg’s recent craving for cake was the reason she couldn’t fit into her old corset .However, she seemed to be in a more amicable mood in Cas and Dean’s presence. 

“Look, I just wanted to say thank you for what you did for Gavin. The kid doesn’t have a lot going for him. Crowley gets his kicks from terrorising the poor bugger and I’m hardly the poster board for effective mothering.” Kevin was sure he was imagining the falter in her voice. She was nothing if not a good actress. He could almost picture the depreciative sarcastic smile that must have been on her features. “I’m much more suited to the role of evil stepmother. But what you did, it was, well… good.”

“I just gave him pie.” The shrug was implicitly conveyed in Dean’s words. Kevin felt the bed press down on him as another weight dropped down with a creak. 

“So Clarence, you volunteered to join this cock-measuring expedition. Finally grown a pair?” Meg dropped the sincerity impressively easily, returning to her usual snarky self.

Kevin was surprised to hear the barely distinguishable laugh in Cas’ reply. “I fail to see the connection between my attendance in the expedition and the state of my genitalia.”

The bed moaned again as Meg’s boot’s left the floor. Kevin could only imagine what she was doing to Cas. He seemed adept at avoiding it though, as Meg’s feet quickly returned to the floor.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Cas’ voice was level and he continued talking, taking her silence as permission. “It’s about Charlie. Can you please stop tormenting her?” Cas’ words sent a small thrill of gratitude through Kevin, he knew Charlie had been struggling with Meg but he hadn’t expected that Cas would risk putting himself in Meg’s bad books to defend her. There were few things more dangerous than gaining Meg as an enemy.

“Oh Clarence, I don’t know what you could possibly mean. Charlie is my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Why would I torment her? Besides I think she can take a little teasing when she’s got a lovely pile of man candy following her round.” Meg’s faux-sweet attitude would be enough to make anyone barf, but it seemed strange that it lacked any kind of threat or ill feeling. If anything he would have called it good natured. Like she knew Cas well, maybe even linked him.

“Meg!” There was no mistaking the firm warning from Cas. It was more forceful than Kevin would have expected from such a stoic man.

“Oh fine! It was getting boring anyway.” 

As far as Kevin could tell from his uncomfortable position Dean was too wound up to notice most of the interactions going on around him. Although when the clack of Meg shoes scraped across the wooden floor, Kevin could see they were positioned to face Dean. “I’ll let you guys get your beauty sleep. If you find he tosses and turns too much, my room is just up the hall. I’m a very considerate bedfellow. Besides, brunettes know how to have way more fun than gingers.”

From his position under the bed Kevin had a clear view of Cas’ legs tensing up. They didn’t relax until the door had closed behind Megs tapping feet. Scrambling out from under the bed raised a cloud of dust that sent Kevin into a sneezing fest.

“I never got round to asking, Cas. How do you know Meg?” Dean’s curiosity held a strange level of vulnerability Kevin couldn’t quite unpack. So he was right, Cas and Meg did know each other. He had no idea why that would worry Dean though.

“She was my sweetheart once upon a time.” The nobleman seemed content to leave it at that, but Dean’s face showed that more explanation was needed. “I still own a lock of her hair. We used to spend a lot of time together; neither of us had been graced with many other friends. I held a great respect for her, maybe even loved her.” Cas coughed a little at Dean’s sharp look. Kevin was beginning to get the feeling that he was intruding.

How could Cas have feelings for the cold-hearted bitch. Kevin had heard nothing but horror stories concerning her, and Cas seemed far too delicate to get caught up in all that.

Cas continued his story, but Kevin got the impression that he was filtering through his choice of words. “She was staying with us while she searched for a husband and we spent a very enjoyable few months together. I got to see a side to her apparent to few others. I would have already asked her to marry me but it was no secret she aimed to get her money’s worth. I couldn’t offer her what she wanted. Yet it got to the point where I felt enough compulsion to propose anyway.

“That wasn’t to be, my brother Lucifer came to visit, and quickly ascertained the level of my affections. He always did covet those things he perceived to be denied to him and I could only offer a weak competition.” Dean looked like he was on the brink of arguing that point, but Cas ignored him and ploughed on. 

“I think she very quickly realised that he had less than honourable intentions, she’s never been stupid. But she knew what she wanted, and Lucifer had what I didn’t. She followed him around the country for a few months until he got bored. That’s when she got passed off to Crowley. It’s the main reason that I’m here, that and Gabriel. Michael gave me a few choices of people to wed, the throne’s in desperate need of allies and funding. I chose Miss Kelly because I knew that would place me near Meg. Even now, I wanted to check on her. I’d have made sure to get here earlier if I’d have known the kind of man that Crowley is.”

Dean had been getting more and more worked up as Cas spoke. His happy mood seemed to have been tainted, which became apparent when he slammed his foot into the bed with a clang. “What a bitch. How can you even…”

“Because she’s my friend. She always understood me better than most people. Even Anna and Gabriel don’t get me in the same way she does.”

“So you’re still in love with her.” Kevin had never heard such bitterness come from Dean before, and it only increased his impression that he was intruding

“No Dean. I am not such a masochist as that. My heart learns quickly, and is rarely stung twice by the same thorn. It took me a long time but I realised that it was her company and friendship that I missed, not her kisses. I didn’t understand at the time, but I never really saw her that way, not truly. She may have broken my heart, but she never lied to me. Given the choice to chase her friendship or move to an area where I knew no-one, I chose Nottingham.”

Dean’s movements were still infused by anger, which Cas must have noticed as he moved closer to the outlaw, whispering gently “My heart is my own, and anyone else’s who I choose to share it with in the future, Dean.”

As he watched Cas and Dean spiral off into their own little world, Kevin realised it was time to go. He had absolutely no idea what was going on and didn’t think he wanted to. He’d have left earlier but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt and was still waiting for Dean to dismiss him. But he was fed up with this whole conversation and had a very long night ahead of him. With a quick mumble he left the room. Maybe if he was lucky Sam would have a mug of mulled wine, or even that cocoa stuff he’d heard talked about.

The wind was battering against the door by the time Kevin managed to force it open. The rain was still pounding, if anything even heavier than before. Kevin pulled his arms closer around himself as he stepped out to embrace the long night that awaited him. The first puddle his foot met sent a cold squidgy feeling through his feet. Looked like his shoes already had a hole.

****

 

Cas’ body was tingling with nerves as he urged his horse further into the forest. This was only going to end in carnage. 

Trying to distract himself, Cast concentrated on thinking about the pleasantness of sharing a bed with Dean once he had managed to calm the outlaw down. It had proved refreshing the way the outlaw hadn’t forced him to make further conversation and was just happy just to lie there soaking up the moment between the two of them. Dean had held him possessively, hands exerting firm pressure across his stomach as he drifted off. There were definitely no thoughts of Meg drifting across his vision, just a passionate pair of misty green eyes. He’d had his first decent night’s sleep in two weeks. 

And there were no words to explain the peace he felt when he opened his eyes to the morning, to be greeted with Dean’s gently snoring face. The early wake up had almost seemed like a blessing when Dean had got him to help groom the most beautiful horse. He had not even felt embarrassed when Dean had told him to stop staring so intently into her eyes and to help him shift the hay. 

Despite his satisfaction at these thoughts, Cas still felt like grabbing Dean and bolting from the forest and the danger they were undoubtedly walking into. What if Sam hadn’t got the message, or the Sheriff’s men managed to overpower the outlaws? Even on a straightforward mission there could be casualties.

Dean on the other hand was practically bursting with excitement. No such thoughts were swirling through his mind. He was the epitome of carefree. Every few yards he turned from the front of the cart to give Cas a beaming smile or a cheeky wink. Crowley seemed similarly in high spirits, maintaining an unsettlingly gleeful grin on his face for the entire journey. This opportunity was such a sure thing that he had deigned to enter the forest himself.

The rest of the group were rather worse for wear. There was a decent collection of black eyes, and more than a few of the guards looked a little green around the gills. Dean had convinced Crowley of the need to keep their group small in order to maintain the element of surprise. Henricksen and Uriel were flanking Crowley, bald heads glinting in the morning sun. Apart from them there were only around ten other guards.

There was only one woman with their party. Crowley had said that Abbadon was only there to act as bait, but there was a deep ferocity about the redhead that kept Cas’ eyes fixed on her flaming hair. There was a repressed venom to her gaze whenever she looked at Crowley, and when his back was turned she added new meaning to the term ‘glaring daggers’.

Cas was surprised to see that Gabriel hadn’t joined them. Not that running around in the forest getting sweaty with swords was his kind of thing, but Cas was fairly sure his brother hadn’t returned home with Anna the previous night either.

Apart from his strung out nerves, Cas was finding the forest unusually calming. As the morning wore on he found himself smiling at the distant tinkle of water. He hadn’t even realised that he had started whistling along with the birds until Dean gave him a particularly meaningful smile. 

They had just reached a large tree that spread its branches up into the sky. Dean pulled the cart to a slow stop stroking his hand comfortingly along Impala’s shoulder.

“This is it Sheriff.”

Crowley dismounted with a leer. “You get me Robin Hood, Jimmy, and you’ll have enough gold to drown your entire family in. So what now?”

Dean leaned back into the cart, as if looking around for something. “We wait, Robin Hood should be here any second now, if you guys get ready to hide and get the ‘bait’ all set.”

Cas didn’t take his eyes from Dean as the outlaw raised an intricately carved horn to his lips and sent out a resounding cry. The low wail reverberated through the forest, silencing the birdsong and leaving an expectant tension in its wake. The entire company was in the process of dismounting their horses, caught with one foot in the stirrups. Confusion reigned as Crowleys shrewd mind quickly started whirring. Within seconds he was yelling at his non-plussed men, desperately ordering them back onto their horses.

Cas only started to move as he saw a flash of coppery red. Abbadon was charging straight for Dean, a sword glinting in her hand. Without any conscious effort a shrill cry of “Dean” exploded from Cas lips. Abbadon didn’t falter as Dean responded to Cas’ shout. Everything was happening too fast. She was swinging her sword. Dean didn’t have time to defend himself. He had no weapon, hadn’t even realised his danger as his green eyes remained fixed on Cas. The sword was slicing towards his head.  
‘No’ was the only word Cas’ stuttering brain could produce “No, no, no, no, no!”. Dean’s eyes finally filled with shock as he registered the fatal glint slashing close to his ear.

Just as the sword was about to make contact it forcefully changed direction, clattering to the ground. All Cas could hear was the pounding heartbeat in his ears as his mind processed the scene. Abbadon had been thrown to the floor by the force of an arrow that had pierced her right arm. The guards were glancing around, anxiously trying to find the source of the attack. Crowley had leapt off his horse the minute he had seen the arrow, and was crouched behind its large body.

A second later the entire group was surrounded by shouts and whoops as green figures tumbled from the sky. They were surrounded by what must have been thirty outlaws. There was none of their usual liveliness. Each one had a hard set to their face as they kept their bowstrings pulled menacingly tight. They looked for entirely like hardened killers.

Sam had landed next to Dean and was giving him a friendly hand off of Impala. Cas was still shaking, but at least he was beginning to realise that Dean was okay, that he hadn’t been hurt. The outlaw himself seemed relaxed about his whole near-death experience and was even taunting his little brother. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to get your girly ass down here.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I just saved your life.” Sam’s expression was far from impressed as he motioned towards the glaring Abbadon.

“Ahh lucky shot.”

In one swift movement Sam had notched an arrow and let it soar through the air to land just shy of Crowley’s foot, stopping his creeping motions in their tracks.

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “See you’re a rotten shot, you missed.” He strolled over to Crowley. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Robin Hood.”

The laughter that spilled from Crowley was derisive. “You. You’re Robin Hood. I’ve seen rats that’d make better outlaws.”

Dean spun Crowley round, disregarding the jibe and speaking with authority. “Hands against the tree.” He proceeded to run his hands down Crowley’s sides, pulling out the odd dagger. He completely ignored the running commentary of “You could at least buy me dinner first” and “Oh yeah baby, like that”.

Once he’d secured Crowley’s wrists he sat him down on the floor. Cas shivered at the loathing Crowley directed towards the outlaw. “You’re going to regret this. No-one crosses the King of Nottingham and gets away with it.” Dean quickly drowned out the barrage of insults with a gag.

In the meantime, the rest of Crowley’s party had been subjected to similar treatment. All of them were bundled into a cluster, still surrounded by outlaws. Cas had barely noticed as he’d been tied up, mostly concentrating on stopping his shaking. Blindfolds were swiftly distributed, but Cas was saved from blindness when Dean carefully stopped Garth from tying it.

None of Crowley’s men were able to see as Dean untied Cas’ bonds, helping him to stand up and delicately rubbing his wrists. Cas steadied himself with a hand on those broad shoulders and nodded when Dean touched a finger to his lips.

“What are you going to do with them?” Sam asked. Cas was receiving a few silent slaps on the back, and the rest of the outlaws were slowly beginning to share smiles as they considered their handiwork.

“Well for starters I think we should get them to sit tight while I have some lunch. I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry.” The shake of Sam’s head earned him a toothy smirk.

The green-clad outlaws moved off to find a clearing, just leaving a handful of people behind to watch their captives.

As soon as they were safely out of earshot Cas shoved Dean hard and pulled him into a tight hug. “What were you playing at? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Dean’s body quickly gave up resisting as Cas felt a soft pat on his back and strong arms enfolding him. The sea of shocked faces when he eventually pulled away told him that the hug may have lasted longer than convention normally allowed. It was strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he had voluntarily hugged anyone.

Cas remained silent as everyone dug into their cold meals. Apparently the real cooking didn’t get done without Bobby. Everyone discussed how the weather was starting to look up and when they should have the next dance. Dean described what had happened in Nottingham, relishing the attention he gained when he told them about the archery contest.

“It was an impressive feat.” Dean seemed to glow under Cas’ quiet praise.

After eating, Dean made his way over to a stooped old man. Across the clearing Cas kept his eyes fixed as Dean began to strip. Sunlight tickled cross his taught muscles as Dean freed himself first from the tight shirt and then the ridiculous trousers. A slight sigh left Cas’ lips as Dean then proceeded to obscure this glorious sight with the green clothes the potter had been wearing. 

He then produced a purse, addressing the potter in a very formal manner. “Here is what I earned in Nottingham, plus a little more. 2 pounds from the pottery, 40 shillings from my wager with a sheriff, and I do believe the sheriff promised me another 6 if I took him to Robin Hood. Well, I certainly did that much. So let’s call it an even ten pounds shall we?” The potter stared open jawed at Dean as the outlaw pocketed the rest of the contents of the purse. He seemed to be deciding whether such a large sum justified him breaking with his instincts and thanking the outlaw. Instead he settled for grumbling his way back towards his cart, hitching up his donkey and rattling off. Dean had kept hold of the red hood, but the potter didn’t seem to notice that it was even missing under the influence of his new stash of money.

The now unfortunately clothed Dean caught Cas looking at him and threw himself on the floor next to him, aiming a twig at Sam’s head.

“I was meaning to ask you last night, what is the batman tree?” Cas asked the question more to distract himself from the sordid visualisations plaguing his subconscious than from any pure desire for serious conversation.

“Well, when Sammy was five he put on this black cape and said he was dressed up as ‘batman’. You know, half bat, half man. And then he jumped off that massive tree cos he thought he could fly.”

“After you jumped first.” Sammy exclaimed with affection.

“Hey, I was nine and I was dressed up like a fairy okay, everybody knows that batman can’t fly.”

“I didn’t know that, I broke my arm.” The memory of the injury seemed to be a good one; each brother was chuckling at the other. It was the kind of shared amusement that Cas often struggled to comprehend. No memory of injury had ever caused such a happy reaction with him and his siblings.

“I know you did, man I brought you back to dad on Impala. God he wasn’t happy.” That thought seemed to bring the brothers’ laughs up short.

“So how are you finding life with Gabe?” Sam gave Cas a friendly nudge of his shoulder, obviously trying to change the subject.

“A little restricting to be honest. I find myself more at home under these branches.” Cas only realised he’d said the last part aloud when Sam awkwardly coughed and Dean beamed at him. He quickly brushed over it with more talking. “It’s a little lonely and boring. Gabriel seems unable to come up with much in the way of savoury entertainment, and there is little for me to occupy my time with.”

“You could always come join us here. You know, romping in the woods, playing the outlaw.” Cas tried to ignore the way Dean’s face fell when he shook his head. It was silly that it should mean so much to either of them.

“I can’t Dean. I’ve got my family, Anna needs me. And I’ve got my duty towards my brothers and now April to consider.” He tried to keep his words soft, but couldn’t hide the slight twinge of sadness that accompanied them. Cas kept his eyes trained to the floor so he didn’t have to see the disappointment and anger that drifted across Dean’s face. When he looked up Dean’s eyes had lost their glitter. That still didn’t stop him from cracking jokes for the next couple of hours, most of which seemed to be at Sam’s expense.

Eventually it was decided that Crowley had been kept waiting for long enough. Cas followed the other outlaws, trying to repress the sinking feeling in his chest. Sam caught his arm before he could move too far off, whispering in low tones. “I don’t know what you did Cas, but for all our sakes thank you for cheering Dean up. There was no way his ‘adventure’ could have transformed him so fast.”  
Cas must have looked bemused, because Sam quickly elaborated. “Ever since you left he’s been moping around with a face like a smacked arse. But under your influence he’s a lot more…happy.”

Cas could do little more than blink as he struggled to hide his blush. Sam couldn’t be right, there was no way he could have that much impact on the outlaw. It’s not like it made any difference anyway. Cas still had to return back to Gabriel’s mansion and marry April. Nothing could change that.

Purposefully Cas brushed off Sam’s grateful arm and followed the rest of the outlaws. When they reached the batman tree (and Dean had pointed out where Sam had jumped from), he found himself being trussed up by Jo. Unfortunately this meant the bonds ended up being a lot tighter than was strictly necessary. It seemed to make her feel better though, as she let out a taunting breath every time she pulled on the knot. She completed it with a vindictive grin. She then yanked a blindfold over his head, twisting some of his hair a little painfully in the process. Well it seemed safe to say she was still a little jealous.

Keeping this in the back of his mind, he flinched as a hand brushed across his cheek and he felt a close breath against his ear. However, he quickly realised that the gentle hand was rubbing familiar callouses roughly against his skin and that the low pitch of the voice in his ear was deliciously masculine. “I want you to do something for me. Can’t have you all alone in that big ol’ mansion.  
Cas could only let out a breath that was dangerously close to a moan as a hand grazed through his hair.

“Tie this outside your bedroom window and if you’re a good boy you might be lucky enough to get some company.” There was something altogether wicked in Dean’s mutter which sent a thrill up his spine. Cas felt a teasing pressure at the side of his hip as something was slipped into his pocket. Dean pulled away, but he was still close enough that Cas could feel the twisting of his neck. He must have been checking that the pair of them remained unobserved by the rest of the outlaws.

“Do you understand?” Cas just nodded, not trusting himself to keep his voice low enough to remain unnoticed by Crowley. 

There was a soft brush of lips against his own for the briefest of moments before they pulled away. He chased the sweet taste, but it proved to be impossibly elusive.

A few minutes later from beyond the darkness Cas could hear a loud scuffling, followed by Dean’s provocative voice.

 

“Hey butweed, enjoy your little time out?”

“You impudent little…” Crowley’s insults were soon cut off in the back of his throat. Someone must have shoved him or found some other way to shut him up.

“Now now, less of the name calling. We’ve been very hospitable to you…so far! You wouldn’t want to go changing that now would you?”

“So what do you want?” Crowley kept his voice controlled but there was a definite hum of anger underpinning it.

“Well first off I think ..what was it? You should ‘strip down to your birthday suit and give us all a resounding rendition of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’’.” Dean’s smug laugh reverberated around the clearing, getting picked up by his men and even a few of the Sheriff’s guards seemed to titter under their breath. There was no verbal reply from the other man. “So maybe we should remove your men’s blindfolds and give them front seat view.”

The blindfold was torn from Cas’ face, leaving him blinking in the bright glare of the sunlight. All the other captives had had their sight returned too. He opened his eyes to see Dean and Crowley engaged in a standoff, neither of them removing their eyes from the other.

Crowley shrugged his black jacket off, still maintaining eye contact with Dean. There was nothing but contempt and a warning behind the look. Cas became increasingly worried about what Dean was doing. Crowley was like a bee hive, he coated most of his behaviour in honey, but poke him one too many times and you would most definitely regret it. The Sheriff surveyed his men with a look designed to wither even the sun.

“A single one of you cretins laughs and you’ll be spending the next month rotting in my dungeons!”  
Yet the Sheriff was powerless to stop the furtive looks and mocking smiles that were being passed around the guards.

Dean squirmed a little when Crowley winked at him. The gesture had been anything but pleasant. The Sheriff began slowly fiddling with the buttons down his chest, whipping his shirt quickly off. For an older man Crowley had a fine form, and Cas found himself admiring the soft down decorating the guy’s stomach. There wasn’t much chance to admire it before Crowley was stripping off his outer trousers, shaking his legs until they were removed, left only in his bright white britches. That sent a louder giggle amongst the captives, whilst the outlaws were all outwardly guffawing.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked icily. 

“So far so good, still not shown me the true jewels though.” Dean couldn’t seem to help taunting him even more.

“You’re going to regret this Hood!” Crowley’s menacing croak wiggled underneath Cas’ skin, setting all his nerves on end.

“Just take the whitey tightys off” Crowley tugged them off with a flourish, revealing the entirety of himself. Jo who had positioned herself behind him called out “That’s the hairiest ass I’ve ever seen.”  
Everyone in the entire clearing baring Cas and Crowley burst into a loud laughter only punctuated by the odd wolf whistle.

“I believe there’s something you forgot...” Dean raised his arm up away from his mouth, giving the most obnoxious imitation of a minstrel’s stance.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow, for…” Crowley’s voice was off key, but he made up for it in volume. It seemed like he was trying to show Dean that he wasn’t intimidated.

Dean seemed to notice this, and broke in trying to amp up the humiliation. “Wait, who’s a jolly good fellow?”

“You are.” 

“Say it again…”

“You are.”

“Who is?”

“Robin Hood’s a fucking jolly good fellow.” The Sheriff resembled nothing more than a tomato having a tantrum at this point.

“Go on.” The gracious wave of Dean’s arm seemed to do nothing for Crowley’s temper.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow...” By the time Crowley had resentfully finished crooning the song Dean looked in danger of toppling over he was laughing so much.

“What do you think guys? Should I let them go home?” Dean bowed his way through the chorus of jeers, finally declaring that it was time to send the guards on their merry way home.

The outlaws kicked all the Sheriff’s guards up onto their feet, tying them together in a long line. Cas found himself at the back, after a particularly hard kick from Jo, who gave Dean a what-I-had-to-make-it-look-realistic-didn’t-I shrug.

“Now lads, and lass, we would like to thank you for your generous donations to the merry outlaws of Sherwood. Your horses are especially appreciated and I’m sure will bring us a pretty penny.” Dean gestured towards the pile of purses and weaponry in the centre of the clearing. “And to thank you and your wife for your lavish hospitality last night the men of Sherwood would like to send her our regards and this small gift.”

A small white palfrey was pulled into the clearing, baying and snickering. It was a little on the small side for a small lady, but a full grown man riding it would look nothing short of comical.

Crowley reached for his clothes. “Nah ah ah ah Sheriff. It would be a shame to cover up such a beautiful creation.” Dean grinned innocently. “Would you like a leg up?”

Crowley’s face paled as he considered the unsaddled palfrey. The Sheriff propelled himself onto her back, and found his arms quickly bound around her neck. A rope attached his waist to the long line of guards. Cas winced in sympathy, there was going to be some serious chafing occurring. 

A sinister look passed across Crowley’s face as he quietly intoned under his breath. “By the time I’ve finished with you you’re going to wish you were dead!”

Crowley led the way back to Nottingham, a deadly storm circling round his head. Each passer-by who caught sight of him and ran off laughing and refusing to help only built up his tension. As he uncomfortably stumbled along, Cas couldn’t help but think that Dean might have made a huge mistake.

**** 

 

Gabe fiercely struggled against his bonds when he heard the door scrape open. That harpy had done a real number on him. He was stretched out in complete naked vulnerability, no movement and no way of making noise through his gag. As it had turned out, the busty brunette that he had been using his best charm on was the sister of a less-than-happy ex of his. 

She’d dragged him into Crowley’s study with an infectious giggle. He wasn’t going to lie, the idea of defiling himself all over that assholes most prized possessions had been extremely satisfying. It had become even more appealing when the woman in question had produced some sturdy-looking scarves and trussed him up in the window, trailing kisses along neck as she worked. He had done everything she asked him like some kind of enchanted sap. Then she had shoved a cloth that tasted of mouldy cheese down his throat and covered him in curtains. And now here he was, all trussed up, naked and gagged. 

Gabe was just contemplating how he would probably have to wait for hours before by some poor unsuspecting staff member would find him. He could think about how he regretted what he did, how he’d never do it again, how he would change his ways. But it wouldn’t be true. He’d been in situations like this before, and he probably would be in them again. At least he had missed Crowley’s caveman expedition thing. He just wished that he was somewhere where he was less concealed and more easily found. His arms were starting to ache.

His musings were broken into when a drawn out creak announced the opening of the door. He tried to wriggle around, seeing if he could draw some attention from behind the window. Shit. Once he realised who had entered the room he instantly he stopped moving.

Gabe’s stomach dropped as he made out Crowley’s bone chilling drawl. “So what is it my dear?” Had he spotted him? The heart in Gabe’s chest was beating so fast it felt as if it would explode. Crap. Don’t let Crowley find him like this.

Gabe released the breath he had been holding in when he realised that Crowley was talking to someone else in the room. “What, cat got your tongue? I haven’t got all day, darling.”

There still appeared to be no reply as Crowley’s voice became infused with a dangerous lilt. “Come on Lilith, don’t make me play games. I’m not in the mood. I’ve spent the last four hours playing Lady bloody Godiva after being outsmarted by the most moronic outlaw in existence. Unless you’ve got a way to bring me Robin Hood’s head on a platter you’d better hurry along.” 

Obviously the Robin Hood hunt hadn’t gone well for Crowley. Gabe would have chuckled if he wasn’t gagged. He’d always found something quite endearing in the outlaw’s audacity, and anyone who could annoy Crowley as much as he did couldn’t be too bad. Although he did miss that priceless rug that the outlaw had somehow nabbed.

An unnervingly childlike voice cut its way through the air, piercing Gabe’s eardrums. There was no emotion whatsoever in it, just a sense of cold hearted callousness. “I go by Lily now, Uncle. I merely came to pay my respects to you.”

The distinctive sound of shuffling papers resounded though the room. Crowley sounded far from amused. “Is that all?”

The child continued with an impassive air. “You may want to interrogate Castiel if you wish to discover more about Robin Hood. He spent a lot of time in his presence during his captivity. And his name’s not Robin Hood, it’s Dean Winchester.” The shuffling of paper cut off. Gabe found his mind whirling over what she was saying. It couldn’t be true. There was no way in hell that ever-dutiful-sun-shines-out-of-my-arse Cassie could have even the remotest connection to an outlaw. Lilith must be mistaken.

“You didn’t think to tell me this sooner?” Crowley’s anger was enough to make anyone cower, but Lilith seemed unfazed, using the same unaffected tone.

“I didn’t think it relevant. I was unaware that you had any interest in the matter.”

“You mean to tell me that I’m a butt-naked laughing stock to the entirety of Nottingham, that my bitch of wife has spent the last half hour mocking me and saying that it was quite the price for his pottery and that I was hoodwinked by a guy dressed as a potter all because you thought that that little nugget of information wasn’t relevant.” Crowley practically spat the last word out.

There was no reply from the little girl, but when Crowley spoke again it was much more respectful. “Wonderful. Now go, and if you find anything else out let me know. Immediately!” The door squeaked its way open and shut.

“Castiel, hmmm” a regular wooden tapping sound came from beyond the curtain. This was soon followed by the scraping of a chair and the creek of the door again. Crowley seemed pissed. Gabe had no idea what was going on, but it looked like Cassie was about to be dropped into some deep shit.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last chapter i'll be posting for a while, my life's really hectic at the moment and I want to get the story line hammered out so it'll flow a bit better. Plus it's getting sunny and I like to pretend I have a life. Having said that, I might surprise myself so we'll have to see.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks it makes my day :)  
> And please send me any comments/suggestions/criticisms/requests etc
> 
> p.s. I'm not sure why this chapter had so much nudity in it, it just kind of happened.


	8. Dean Hood and Shit Gets Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently it's only taken me 10 months to update. So hallelujah and all that. It must be some kind of record. At this point I don't there's any point even trying to make excuses. Life, other fanfics, and starting an spn femslash imagines blog have all taken their toll. Please don't hate me.
> 
> So on the upshot, here's the next chapter. The not so good news is that it's a little shorter than the others, and I've kind of scrounged it up from a file I found that had some stuff written up into it which means that it's not my best work (and there's an awkward couple of paragraphs about Cas, Anna and Gabe's backstory that don't really fit, but I wanted to keep them in for now anyway). I'm just aware I said I'd post something in Feb, so here it is. i have another chapter's worth already written, but I don't really want to post anything else until I've had a read through the entire thing again and sorted out where the whole plot's going (I've stupidly got loads of fiddly bits running through) so hopefully I can keep it consistent. In all honesty I'm probably not going to update again until mid/late-March...but I'm gonna try to get to a regular posting schedule after that.
> 
> And don't ask about the title for this chapter, it was at the top of the page I had saved, and i couldn't think of a better one.

Jo balanced her weight on the top of the fence, squinting down at the village. After being chased out of their cottage by her disgruntled mother brandishing a broom she was left twiddling her thumbs. She had nothing to do but watch the villagers bustling about. It wasn’t her fault that the beer had turned bad. Or at least not really. She couldn’t help it if it had started hissing and fizzing after having been introduced to a jar of some stinky indeterminable substance. Surely her mother had been over exaggerating when she said that Jo had ruined the entire batch. Either way Jo had been kicked out to ‘think about what she’d done’, but she couldn’t bring herself to care since it happened to be washing day. One day her mother might notice that these ‘mishaps’ that end up with Jo being banished always occurred on a Monday, but as astute as she was she hadn’t caught on yet.

One of the younger and less involved of the Merry Men was putting his sexy ass to work tilling the field next to her. She had to admit his rippling back was doing something to her nether regions. He’d tried it on, of course he had. Most of the men did, they thought that she was easy just because she had a decent rack and a pretty face. Well more fool them. Sometimes she felt like being easy, sometimes she didn’t and sometimes the pushy ones learnt the hard way with broken fingers. This particular guy, Jo couldn’t even remember his name, had retreated pretty quickly when she’d told him she wasn’t interested. Maybe he was worth a shot. She could go pull her moves on him when he was finished with the plough.

Jo would never admit it, but sometimes it was an uphill struggle being one of the few women in the band. It was far better under Dean than it had been under John, but even then she seemed to expend her entire energy trying to prove she was worth as much as the others. At least Dean didn’t expect her to do any sewing. And he let her wear the livery. Or at least he had.

It didn’t help that Dean saw her as some little sister to coddle and protect. He didn’t seem to understand that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself. Not to mention the fact that the last thing Jo wanted to be was Dean’s sister. You’d think he’d notice, she’d made it clear enough, even to the point where she was subjected to constant teasing about it and her mother had taken her to one side for a particularly embarrassing rendition of ‘the talk’.

Sometimes she thought he saw her as being no different from Krissy, for god’s sake. He was always coming up with excuses to prevent her from doing the more dangerous missions. Like that thing with the snobby nobleman. Her cheeks still burned with humiliation and anger whenever she thought about it. Nothing could break her heart as fast as Dean choosing a goddamn stranger over her, and then callously stripping her of the only value she had in the band. Everyone knew she was a complete calamity in the kitchen, and she’d made it so clear that she didn’t want to be there that even soft-as-pie Benny looked like he was contemplating murder on a daily basis. 

And yet Dean wouldn’t stop rubbing salt in the wound. He still hadn’t let her off of kitchen duty and he repeatedly acted like a love sick puppy around Castiel. What did he have that she didn’t, apart from the obvious genitalia? Even then, Jo knew that Dean had been with more than his fair share of women and so it shouldn’t be an obstacle. Castiel with his unsocial stare, with his awkward manners and lack of humour. His entire personality was atrocious. She didn’t know how anybody could bare to be within ten feet of the wanker. And yet there Dean was, following him around as if he were some angelic figure with god’s grace shining out of his arse. Even if she had to admit it was a nice arse, that didn’t mean she liked the twat attached to it. Apart from anything else she could swear he offered Dean nothing but danger. Only trouble could come from that relationship. Maybe when the bastard got married Dean would get over his stupid little crush and actually look at Jo for once.

The guy in the field seemed to have noticed the way Jo’s eyes were trained on him as he made his way over, uncertain smile flashing across his features. Screw it, Dean had made it clear he wouldn’t be interested any time soon. She sat up straighter, almost toppling off the fence. So gracefulness wasn’t one of her most prominent features, this guy didn’t seem to mind as he smiled at her. 

She mustered up all her coquettish powers, twirling a finger through her hair and ready to let out a flirty giggle. As he got closer she found herself admiring the taught muscles of his shoulders and the hot sweep of his hair that was a similar length to Sam’s (not that she’d ever let Sam know in a million years that she had the hots for his hair). Despite the guy’s allure Jo could tell that she wasn’t quite feeling it. He just wasn’t doing it for her. If she was truly honest with herself then she’d admit that he just wasn’t Dean.

She was about to engage him in a bit of light banter, when she was interrupted by a cacophony of shouts breaking across from the village. Jo swung off the fence fast as a shot to get a decent sight down to the confusion spreading across the bottom of the hill.

Indistinct black figures had descended upon the village joined by cold flashes of sunlight rebounding off of metal. A twinge of unease flickered through Jo as the first bloodcurdling scream reached her ears, tempered by the distance and the other shouts echoing up the hill.

Mr Tall-Dark-And-Hansom was frozen in shock, mouth opened in an impressively unattractive manner. Well he was going to be a fat lot of use. As she managed to focus her sight on one of the closer birdlike figures, she could barely make out a creeping silver insignia across the front of his dark uniform. The Sheriff’s crest. Jo had never truly realised the accuracy of the ‘blood running cold’ cliché before.

It took her all of two seconds to realise that all her weapons were ‘safely’ secreted in the forest on her mother’s orders. Shit. She didn’t even have her usual dagger in her boot. Double shit. Just when they needed them.

After a couple of moments of dithering she sprinted off away from famer boy and the village in the direction of the forest. Dean would be able to do something. He had to. She raced forward, pushing her grumbling muscles and trying to flush the villagers’ screams from echoing through her head. Breaths rattled through her chest as she shoved scratching branches out of the way in her desperation to get to the outlaws.

****

 

Anna had walked in on a rather embarrassing scene. Castiel was sat still as a statue while Gabriel ripped into him. The shorter man was pacing back and forth in agitation, arms waving above his head as if swatting at an imaginary hoard of bugs. Something serious must have happened for him to drop his usual obnoxious tone.

Something was definitely wrong, and there were two things that Anna knew. One was that she needed to find out what, and the second was that there no way she was going anywhere near Gabriel when he was such a foul mood. She softly shifted, silently slipping back whilst trying to maintain a decent view of the scene.

Castiel seemed completely unfazed, his normal stiff self, merely sitting still and following Gabriel’s steps across the floor with his eyes. There was actually something quite entertaining about watching the inversion of Castiel winding Gabriel up for once. She didn’t think Castiel was doing it deliberately but you could never tell with him. He had on occasion proved himself to be uncannily savvy.

Much to Anna’s chagrin, Gabriel and Castiel had always been thick as thieves, often literally. The older brother had made it his life’s mission to reek as much havoc as possible and Castiel had normally been happy to contribute. 

The thing about Gabriel was that he treasured more audacious displays, which never failed to get him into trouble. Anna could still remember, with a little giggle, the time he had filled the fountain with the kitchen’s entire supply of wine. At first it had clogged up the inner system of the fountain, making it clunk to a stop. A load of the house staff had been examining it when the pressure finally won out and sprayed the entire gathering in a thick red layer. The look on cook’s face had been priceless and stuck with Anna throughout her adult life.

Castiel had always been the more subtle of the two, appreciating covert schemes with more of a finesse. He had only to suggest something and Gabriel would jump at the chance to cause mischief.  
No one had been able to prove that a certain incident where three pigs ran amok inside the castle had anything to do with the young brothers.

However, as they had gotten older, Gabriel seemed to have stopped getting such a good reaction from his various pranks and had discovered that he had other forms of trouble to get into, often in the form of the angry spouses of his lovers. Castiel likewise seemed to have dropped his nefarious schemes, spending most of his time reading or staring off into space thinking about God knows what. It made him completely unreachable, which infuriated Anna, but at least he had started treating her like a human being. After the terrible month trapped in her room he had been all polite kindness. Of course she now knew why that was, but it still didn’t stop her from appreciating his soft side.

He was always full of politeness, and Anna liked to spend time with him. There was some distance, some part of him that she just couldn’t reach or couldn’t understand. He always was a hard nut to crack.She knew she had been no different, that time had altered the way she interacted with everyone else too. Something had changed inside of her, had snapped. From that time she had done everything she could to infuriate everyone around her. It hadn’t brought her many companions.In fact she was fairly sure it had driven Gabriel away.

Once Gabriel had turned twenty-one he’d claimed his share of the inheritance and disappeared from both Anna and Castiel’s lives. The plan had been for him to take Castiel, and as an afterthought Anna, with him, but their ‘father’ had insisted that they had to live with him until they came of age. It hadn’t happened like that, as he’d just disappeared off to do his own thing. Anna didn’t really care, as empty as her life was she had doubted that she would be happy anywhere. So when her ‘father’ had gotten ill she’d risen to her duty. He’d always resented the burden of providing for the King’s bastard. At least with Gabriel there had been some benefit to raising the King’s youngest legitimate son, but Anna and Castiel were nothing short of a burden, and boy did they know it. And yet she’d cared for him, changing his bedding, reading to him, making sure he ate and watching him slowly fade away into a pale shadow. She hadn’t cried when he died. She hadn’t celebrated either, the time had merely passed in a numb blur.

Their ‘father’s’ nephew had inherited the mansion, and had told them they could stay for as long as they wished so long as they didn’t get in his way. He spent most of his time (and money) down in London and had left running the house to Anna who had only seen him a handful of times in the years she had been there. Until one day he’d sold up, For some reason unknown to anyone but Gabriel he’d used the money to buy this mansion in the dark wilderness of the North. So that’s where they’d all eventually ended up. And Anna was still no closer to breaking her brother’s little pairing, as was proved by the hushes dalliance they were currently having.

She was just the annoying little sister who tagged round after them waiting . Even now she still felt like a stranger to them. Gabriel knew that it was a lot easier to get a rise out of Anna than their deadpan brother and tended to capitalise on this knowledge. Her hair still hadn’t quite lost the gunky smell from his last trick with the pigswill. As a result of this they spent a lot of time bickering, and Anna got bored of the hordes of vapid people he constantly surround himself with. Yet Anna had nothing to do but put up with it (maybe accompanied by a little shouting) and try to keep to herself as much as possible, hiding in corners like this one. It wasn’t anything new.

Anna was rudely jerked away from her reminiscences by Gabriel’s harsh shout. Obviously whatever the fight was about was worse than she thought, Gabriel very rarely flipped his lid in such a manner.

“What do you mean she was right? For fucks sake Castiel!”

“She is correct, I share a certain rapport with Dean.” Castiel blinked his owly eyes, his voice even and emotionless.

“So let me get this right Castiel-I-don’t-even-wipe-my-nose-unless-Michael-gives-me-permission is running round all doe eyed after an outlaw.” Gabriel’s hysterical voice had reached a level where it matched his beetroot red face.

“Well that’s not the way I would phrase it, but yes we are on good terms.” Castiel seemed impervious to Gabriel’s onslaught, taking it in his stride and even managing to sound happy.

Anna thought it was impossible for Gabriel’s eyes to roll any further back into his head, but it turned out she was wrong. “You realise Crowley knows you’re mixed up in all this! He’s going to have your head on a spike before you can say ‘outlaw’s bitch’.”

“Crowley knows?” For the first time in the entire conversation Castiel’s voice sounded slightly off kilter.

“He knows Hood’s real name and he knows you’re involved.” 

Castiel had jumped up from his lounging position in the chair (if Castiel could ever be accused of ‘lounging’). He was peering down at his elder brother, fists clenched and worry racing across his features. “What else does he know?”

“Isn’t that enough? He could have your head for less Castiel.”

“For god’s sake Gabriel, he’s got nothing on me! It’s Dean I’m worried about. What other information does Crowley have?”

When Gabriel just stared open mouthed at his little brother Castiel’s hand grasped his shoulders and started an aggressive shaking movement. “Tell me Gabriel. This is important!”

Anna only realised what had shaken Gabriel up enough to render him speechless when he finally opened his mouth. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” The words were barely audible at their whispered tone when they met Anna across the hallway. It was Castiel’s turn to flush bright red as he muttered a weak “No”.

“You are! I’ve seen this behaviour before when you had your little thing with that she-demon Meg. I know when you’re head over heels. Shit Cassie, you were only in the forest for three days!”

Castiel’s hands still rested on Gabriel’s shoulders as they stared each other down.

“I’ve seen him since.” The sheepish reply sent Anna’s mind reeling. Of course, it made sense, why had she not seen it before? It wasn’t an outright declaration, but now that she thought about it she had definitely picked up on the signs.

Gabriel’s voice was not unkind, in fact the tone of understanding was almost grating compared to his usual carefree demeanour. “I wish you had let me know sooner. I could have tried to help you out, or at least tell you how stupid you were being.” The little snort he let out was much closer to Anna’s image of Gabriel. He put more force into his speech as he carried on. “You need to nip this infatuation in the bud once and for all!"

Gabriel’s voice was on a much gentler note as he gently extricated himself from Castiel’s grip. “Look Cassie, I get where you’re coming from. I’ve always had a soft spot for the guy myself, he’s got an impressive talent for causing trouble. And anyone that can get Crowley’s knickers in a twist deserves a pat on the back in my book. But this isn’t just about him. Crowley’s on the warpath and he’s going to do anything to take Robin Hood down. If that means eating you up and spitting you out then he’ll do it in a snap.”

Castiel opened his mouth, as if to argue, but Gabriel cut him off before he got the chance. “And it’s not just you Castiel. You’re also putting me in danger. Not to mention Anna. If you go down there’s no way Anna’s not coming with you, she was in the forest too remember.”

Anna barely refrained from snorting and giving herself away at that. Since when had Gabriel given her welfare even a smidgeon of thought? But it seemed to work on Castiel, as he ran his hand forcefully through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture. He seemed to shrink in on himself where he stood.

“You’re right, of course, Gabriel. I need to distance myself from Dean, for all our sakes. I will break off all contact after this, but I need to warn him about Crowley.”

The sigh erupting from Gabriel’s lips didn’t seem directed at Castiel. “I know Cassie. You can go later this afternoon. But first I think there’s something we need to do. Crowley’s out for blood and there’s only one thing that I can think of that would offer us any protection. As much as it pains me to say this, I think we need to get in touch with the Kellys and set a date, get under their protection. The sooner it’s done, the sooner you’ll have that extra safety net. Plus it’ll keep Michael happy.”

Castiel’s demeanour returned to its usual stoicism and unbreakable façade as he nodded. Anna scooted off to go hide in the library as Gabriel draped his arm over Castiel’s shoulder and started leading him towards where Anna had been stood. “I really am sorry that this is how it has to be little brother.”

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I'm not 100% sure where this is going yet, so feel free to give me your input. I'm also justlikedaylightsavingstime on tumblr if you want to shoot me a message there. I think some very nasty things will be happening to Kevin in the next chapter, so I apologise in advance for that, but there's also some Destiel fluff (and smut probably) lined up too to soften the blow.
> 
> Like I said, I won't update until I'm ready, but that will hopefully make the fic better in the long run. If you notice any inconsistencies then please let me know, I'll try to fix any screw ups. So yeah, tada, proof this fic hasn't been abandoned!


End file.
